#or something like that- and I have already been interested in football so I assume- still assume that it's the same

[clayd]

as an Avs fan, good luck 🙃

Literally me seeing this:

I'm going to take it the good way,

because I can't really say I saw the match but I saw the first 2 row(? i don't know but i saw the first two secments of twenty minutes and then I had to fall asleep tp not bother anyone with the lights on, but they were really good in what I saw, like fully more i don't know the name but like trows at the portery, and they were like activeded more when the other team score the first goal, and the goalie take off his helmet right after the other ones score him a goal, which I learnt in that moment that was allow to do. It wasn't boring, and I enjoyed the game so I think I'm going to watch the one of today, so I'm going to support them even if the lost, which I don't want them to do. :D

It's really fun to write my throughts on anything, I hope it's not annoying to the anon (I just realised that I don't know if they get like an inbox or something saying that they got responded) that I wrote so much in response of a simple commentary, but it was fun!!! and it cheer me up to write so it's all good on my side.

I'm also sorry but just a little because it's still fun, about the amount of long tags, I just kept writing my thougrhts as I thourght them, just the first two and the last two are short and one in the middle.

[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[toournextadventure]

a cold reunion

Summary: Astrid hasn't visited her mother's old house in a while. She wonders if someone new has moved in by now. Maybe it'll be a "ghost," like her mother claims used to live there. Ha. She would be so lucky.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: mentions of death, Tim Burton style tones Pairing: Astrid Deetz x Reader A/N: I know absolutely nothing about this movie, only the original, so I'm just gonna have some fun with it

Being a Deetz was one of the most irritating parts of life. At least, it was in Astrid’s opinion. Even without her own uncommon interests, she was held to the standards of her mother. Because her mother was weird, everyone assumed she was too. Which she was, but it wasn’t fair she couldn’t make that statement for herself.

She used to have a friend. You had been new to town and hadn’t known anything about her mother. It led to a wonderful friendship. Her favourite classes were the ones you had together, and eventually, she invited you over outside of school. Everyone thought you were crazy to agree, but you never faltered.

Even her mother and grandmother liked you, saying you were a “good kid.” Astrid knew better, you were trouble. Always in detention or being scolded by teachers in the hallways. You were anything but a good kid when it came to following the rules. But she wouldn’t deny, you definitely sweet talked your way into her mother’s and grandmother’s good graces.

You had done the same to her, pulling her in until she didn’t want to leave. The first kiss had been under the bleachers at a football game; disgustingly cliche. You had tasted of the cigarettes you stole from your mom. A disgusting taste, but it was good on you.

But as soon as she really started to like you - a little more than like, she would admit - you disappeared. You hadn’t been at school that morning, and when she went to your mom’s work, she had said she didn’t know where you were. Said it was no surprise you left; you could do better than this town.

That had been two years ago. Your mom had left town not long after your disappearance. Everyone assumed she had done something to you; a suspicion that came from the simple fact that your mom was, as the town called it, “trailer trash.” She was a nice person, Astrid had always liked her. She didn’t blame the woman for leaving.

Even Astrid had left for college once school was over. What else was she going to do, stay put? No, she wanted to get started somewhere else. Somewhere she wouldn’t be saddled with the name Deetz like it was some kind of curse. She loved her mother more than she would ever care to admit. But she wanted to do something for herself.

It was winter break before she came back home.

“Leaving already?” Her mother called from the porch when she grabbed her bike and started walking it to the street. “You haven’t even been here for three hours.”

“I’m going to check on the house,” Astrid said with a shrug. “I heard the owners moved out.”

“They did, thank god,” her grandmother said. “They did that house no justice.”

Bold coming from you, Astrid thought but kept her mouth shut.

“Don’t stay out too late,” her mother said.

“Lydia dear, when you were her age, you were almost marrying a ghost,” her grandmother said. “Consider it karma.”

“Mom,” her mother sighed.

Astrid had already hopped on her bike and started down the street. The path to the old house was well-worn; everyone knew it. The old owners had tried their best to convince everyone the house wasn’t haunted, but most of the town didn’t believe it. At least none of the school kids. They had jumped at the opportunity to have a haunted house in town whether it was real or not.

You had always liked that old house. No one had ever fully convinced you that ghosts had lived there, but you liked the thrill of it. I don’t think they’re real, but what if? You had asked one night after sneaking in through her window. We should check it out one day. After you disappeared, she had avoided the house like the plague.

But Astrid knew the path by heart. Snow had been plowed from the streets, and the dutiful citizens had shoveled the bridge. When she approached said bridge, she slowed until she could get off the bike, walking it across instead of riding. Her mother had made it clear that under no circumstances was she to ride or drive over the bridge. It was a silly rule; she followed it anyway.

The house was more run down than usual. It shouldn’t have upset her as much as it did. After all, it wasn’t like she had really ever lived in the house anyway. But it was still part of everything she had known growing up. To see it practically falling apart was… well, it was nothing short of devastating.

Without taking her eyes off of the house, she propped her bike up by its kickstand and slowly made her way to the front door. Step by step, each stair creaked under her weight. The house was a little creepy. Maybe it would be best if she just didn’t go in. After all, the door was practically falling off the hinge, if she actually knocked it would-

-the door swung inwards.

And you were standing there in the doorway with your eyes wide. You looked like you had seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked quietly.

You exhaled harshly, shoulders sagging with the movement.

“Want some tea?”

—---

Astrid looked as beautiful as the day you had left. Well, no, you hadn’t exactly left but… no, that was something you would face later. For the moment, you were going to enjoy seeing her again. It hadn’t been long, but she had grown into her own. Beautiful as always, too.

And way too quiet for your liking.

“Chamomile okay?” You asked when the kettle was near screaming.

She nodded once, not removing her eyes from you. It was unsettling; you had used to love it. Astrid wasn’t like normal girls, and not in the “too cool for school” kind of way. It was more of an “I’ll be me whether anyone likes it or not” kind of way. If she wanted to be weird and goth then she would and no one could stop her!

But you didn’t like how she was looking at you.

You placed the teabag in the mug and slid it in front of her. The kettle was only seconds away from screaming when you pulled it off the stove. No need to burst anyone’s eardrums. There was no point in being careful with the scalding water as you poured it into her mug.

“You disappeared,” Astrid said while you were mid-pour.

“About that,” you hummed.

“Does your mom know?” She continued. “That you’re right back where you started?”

Your mom. Momma. She had been left all alone after… how had she fared? Were the townspeople nice to her? They had better be, or you would personally bring hell to every single one of them.

“What does she think happened to me?” You asked as you turned around and placed the kettle back on the stove. You didn’t turn back around.

“What everyone else thinks,” Astrid said, “that you ran off.”

“Was she okay?”

“Honestly?” She asked. “She said she was glad you got out of this little town. Said you were too good for it anyway.”

Well that… that almost hurt worse than knowing she never knew the truth. Your momma hadn’t been perfect, but she had done the best with what she had. Time and time again, she had told you in her drunken stupor that you were destined for great things. You had always taken it to heart.

You need to tell her.

“Hey, Astrid?” You asked with a weak voice.

She hummed for you to continue.

“Remember in school when we would say we didn’t believe in ghosts?”

“Yeah, why?”

With a sigh, you turned to look over your shoulder. Astrid’s head was tilted slightly in that way you always found cute. It didn’t click just yet. She just kept looking at you, waiting for you to continue. You raised your brows at her. She was almost there, you could tell by the slight crinkle in her nose, and- ah, there it was.

“You’re joking,” she said.

You gave her your best tight-lipped “white person” smile but otherwise didn’t answer.

“You saw one?” She asked.

Oh. Oh, no, she didn’t get it.

“Well, yes,” you said, turning your full body so you could lean back against the stove and look at her, “but that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are-” there it is “-oh.”

There was something in her eyes when realisation dawned. Her eyes, while a gorgeous dark brown, were usually so bright. So happy, even when she was trying to act like she didn’t care about the world around her. But this was different. Any brightness dimmed to practically nothing.

“How?” She asked.

You shrugged and looked away. “The football team pushed me off the bridge.”

It wasn’t a fond memory, that was for sure. The icy layer covering the river had been rather sharp. But even that hadn’t compared to the pain of inhaling freezing water deep into your lungs. From what you could remember, it was slow. A memory you didn’t enjoy having, but maybe one day it would go away.

“You were murdered?” Astrid asked incredulously; horrifically.

“I mean listen, it’s not too bad,” you attempted to play it off. “It got me out of taking winter finals, which we both know I would’ve failed.”

“But it’s-”

“-I know, Astrid,” you interrupted.

You liked Astrid. You would even go so far as to say you loved her, mostly probably. Were you young? Sure. A little stupid and naive? Absolutely. High school sweethearts? You would say so, yeah. But she instigated a little too much, and she wanted to know everything, but this just wasn’t really something you wanted to indulge her in. Not yet, anyway.

Astrid was quiet for a moment. The gears were turning in her head, you could practically smell the smoke coming off them. What was she thinking, you wondered. Was she dwelling on the fact that you had died, cold and slow and alone? You certainly hoped not, it wouldn’t change anything. You were dead, you were now a ghost, and long-distance relationships weren’t that hard any more thanks to technology, so you could both still make it work!

If she wanted, of course.

“I thought my mom said her ghosts were stuck in the house for, like, a century or something,” she said instead.

You laughed. That was much easier to answer. “I told their caseworker I’d take their place. You know, let them rest in peace, or whatever,” you waved your hands vaguely.

“Caseworker?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So you’re why the previous owners left?” She asked.

“Guilty as charged.” You wiggled your fingers in her direction and smiled.

For the first time all day, she smiled back. God, you missed her smile.

“If you really are a ghost,” she said with a tilt of her head, “how can you pick things up?”

“Ooh, we’re getting to the fun questions,” you said with a smile.

The look on Astrid’s face was perfect. Curious, distrusting. The best mix of emotions; you loved when she was uncertain. It was a more genuine look for her, instead of trying to act like she knew everything and always knew what to expect. Always made her look super cute, honestly.

You walked over to where she was sitting at the run-down table. She turned to keep facing you until you were standing directly in front of her. It was going to be a risk, but one you were very much willing to take. Worst case, you stay stuck in the stupid house forever. No different from your current predicament.

“Took me a few months to really get the hang of it,” you said. Her eyes sparkled again. “You just focus on what you want to touch,” she blushed, “and voila.”

Her blush vanished when you picked up the mug beside her. What you really wanted to do was touch her. Gods, you wanted to know if you could still feel her warmth, the softness of her skin. But it wasn’t time. No, she was probably still worried about the fact that you had… well, you know. Died.

“It took you months to figure out how to do that?” She asked with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” you huffed, placing the mug back on the table. “It wasn’t like I had much to work with.”

“Why didn’t you ask my mom’s old friends how to do it?” Astrid asked before leaning back against the table. “I’m sure they would’ve helped you.”

“Never actually had the pleasure of meeting them,” you said with a shrug. “I only got to meet the other guy.”

“The other guy?” She asked, looking away in thought for a moment before looking back at you. “Oh, you mean Beetlegeu-”

-you slapped your hand over her mouth before she could continue.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered.

She nodded once, and you pulled your hand away.

“Was he really that awful?” She asked, matching your tone.

“He was that annoying,” you grumbled. “God, I swore the guy would never shut up.”

Astrid did her little crooked smile and laugh. The one that you would always try your best to force out of her during class to get her in trouble. Wait, that sounded bad. You didn’t want her to get in trouble, you just would have enjoyed her presence in detention. With you.

“So what else did you take two years to learn?” Astrid asked. She leaned forward until she was so close you could smell her shampoo. “Anything exciting?”

Wait. Wait, this could be your chance. You might be able to do something about it, this could be your shot. Two years in limbo, sitting in a run down house that did nothing but remind you of Astrid with everything you saw. It was her family’s house. You couldn’t leave her even if you had wanted to.

“Well,” you said, “there is something I’ve been wanting to test out.” You looked up to meet her eyes. “May I?”

“Let’s see what you got, ghosty,” she said.

You nodded to yourself and focused. Focused on her body, more specifically her face. Her stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, smiling face. Day after day, you had been thinking of her, and you had hoped time and time again that somehow she would come back to the house.

One deep inhale, hold your breath. Your hands were shaking so badly you would have dropped everything had you been holding something in the first place. And yet, Astrid didn’t budge when you lifted your hands and placed them on either side of her face. Exhale.

Her body was absent of warmth. Astrid had never been an exceptionally warm individual to begin with but this was… different. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that you couldn’t feel her. Sure, you could touch things, but you couldn’t feel any of it. It wasn’t something you could describe, except calling it surreal.

“May I?” You asked again.

You could feel her breath on your lips even as she nodded. It was all you needed to pull her into a kiss. There was still no warmth, but there was a… a comfort in it. In feeling her lips against yours again after so long. To feel her breath mix with yours, replacing everything you didn’t need but you so desperately craved.

Her hands attempted to settle on your hips but fell straight through. In turn, you felt her shoulders sag as she placed her hands on your knees instead. That was… not a nice feeling. Maybe you could learn to focus enough to let her feel you back. That was possible, right? Surely it was.

You pulled away slowly. If you could have stayed kissing her for the rest of your century in that hellhole, you would have. But unfortunately, Astrid still had to breathe, and you had to give her the space to do it. Earlier you had questioned if you had really loved her or if it was a puppy love?

Oh no. It was the real deal.

“You can’t leave at all?” Astrid asked. “Not even for an hour or so?”

“You mean the haunted house isn’t romantic?” You teased.

“What do you even do in here all day every day?” She asked.

Once again, she reached out to touch you. Somewhere, anyway. You looked down at where she was attempting to hold your hand. Maybe if you could focus really hard, it would work. As far as you knew, you couldn’t materialise. At least, you didn’t think you could. But if you really concentrated.

Her fingers slipped between yours and, for the first time in two years, you felt her squeeze your hand. Physical touch. Real physical touch.

“I, ah,” you stammered, looking down at where she was still holding your hand. “It’s in my contract to scare people.”

“Contract?” She asked. Your arm moved as she pulled you closer. Okay, maybe physical touch was a bit unfamiliar to you after so long, you would need to get used to it again.

“My caseworker says I have a quota to meet,” you said, finally looking back up to meet her eyes. “So many people each quarter, you know?”

“So you need people to scare?” She asked. “On a regular basis.”

There was a sparkle in her eye. Something dangerous; scandalous.

“You have something in mind?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

Her smile was vicious. And attractive.

—---

The house looked beautiful in the daylight. The paint was fresh, the inside was cosy, and when nighttime fell? Rumour had it the ghosts came out to play. That was why most people rented out the house; their own private haunting for a night. The listing said if you could survive the night, the stay was free. So far, no one had lasted long enough to even give it a good shot.

And as you stood at the end of the bed watching the young couple sprint down the stairs screaming, you knew they wouldn’t be the winners either.

You walked over to the window and watched as they threw their singular bag into their car and peeled out of the dirt driveway. It hadn’t even been any fun, they hadn’t given you any time to actually scare them. Hell, all you had done was stand at the bed! You hadn’t made any faces, hadn’t pulled any jumpscares, you had simply stood there.

Were you really that scary?

“Gone already?” Astrid asked in a sleepy voice as she walked to stand beside you at the window.

“Didn’t even stay long enough for me to have any fun,” you pouted.

“Well, you’ve hit your quota,” she said. She grabbed your arm and pulled it over her shoulder before tucking closer to your body. After a few months, you were finally starting to feel a bit of warmth from her.

At least, you thought you did.

“Your mom is coming by in the morning?” You asked.

She hummed her confirmation.

“Maybe I can try to scare her, then,” you said.

Astrid pulled you away from the window and started walking you toward your shared bedroom. Not that you really needed the sleep, but it was nice to be able to lay next to her. It was exhausting to keep a more physical form, but for her? You would do it all day every day.

“Good luck scaring her,” Astrid said as she pulled you onto the bed. “She practically grew up with ghosts.”

“I’ll scare your grandmother then,” you said softly, but she didn’t move.

Astrid was already asleep in your arms, just like you had always imagined. Maybe being dead really wasn’t as awful as everyone had always made it seem. After all, it got you your dream girl.

[barcenal999]

Ava's going pro

Lucy Bronze x Bronze!daughterOC

Summary: Lucy was a teen mom and her 17 year old daughter tells her she's signing her first professional contract with Barcelona

It's set in Janurary 2024

Tags: fluff

Word count: 5k

A/N: I've posted this on AO3 before, but decided to start posting here

Ava made two cups of tea and came up to Lucy, who was sitting on the couch and reading a book. Probably something she would recommend to her later.

"Mom? Can we talk?" She didn't even know why she was so stressed about it. It's not like her going pro was something they never talked about. It's just that everyone always assumed she would finish high school first.

Lucy put down her book, patting the seat beside her, for the teenager to take. "Sure. What is it? A new coming out? You're straight? You're trans? You know you can always tell me, it's not like it would change anything in the way I love you." Lucy was never good with talking about serious subjects, so when she felt one coming, she rambled before Ava could even bring up the topic. "Please tell me you're not pregnant. Please don't make the same mistakes I did. I mean, you're not a mistake. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." She would have probably been rambling forever if she wasn't interrupted.

"Mom! Stop! Please. I'm not pregnant. You've been teaching me about safe sex and using protection since I was 13 years old."

"Well you know it's good to teach your kid about protection when they're younger than you were, when you got pregnant with them. It's the first rule of being a teen parent.” Lucy got pregnant when she wasn’t even 15 yet. She was deep in denial, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t a lesbian. Dating an 18 years old boy however, ended with her accepting that she had no interest in boys. 2 months after breaking up with him, she found out she was gonna be a single lesbian teen mom. „And it's good that you're not pregnant. There's already enough people living in this house."

"And who's fault is that?" Ava laughed at her mother and was thankful for her deflection. Being bad at talking about serious subjects was definitely genetic.

"Hey! You said you were okay with my poliamory."

"Yes mom, I'm great with it and I like both Keira and Ona. Can we stop talking about sex and relationships now, and talk about the important thing I have to ask you?"

Lucy sighed, getting herself ready for anything her daughter could throw at her. While Ava took a sip of her tea, the footballer decided it would be safest to put her cup down on the coffee table.

Ava took a deep breath to psyche herself up.

"How would you feel if I played with you on the team? Like, if I signed with Barca?" Her fingers seemed surprisingly interesting in that moment.

"Well, I already assumed that it would be Barça you would be signing with when you go pro. By why are you asking me now? You still have over a year of school left."

"So about that... you remember how some of us from the B team have been invited to train with you a week ago?" She hesitantly looked up at Lucy, and only continued when she saw her nod her head. She was surprised that the only thing she saw on her mom's face was curiosity, which gave her a boost of confidence. "Jona approached me and offered me a first team contract, since my contract for the B team is ending. He said that the details could be discussed when you agree."

Lucy's smile grew as her daughter kept talking. When she finished, she pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

"That's wonderful that they noticed you honey. I don't think you should be asking me for permission. You're almost an adult and I think it's your decision, but I would be thrilled to play beside you.” She took Ava’s face in her hands and directed her to look her in the eyes. „I’m so proud of you. It’s like yesterday you were barely walking and already kicking a ball, and now you’re 17 and signing a contract with the best club in Europe.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and let go of her face, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes.

So many years of doing her best at raising Ava, having the serious conversations when they were needed, yet she still couldn’t hold herself together. Immense pride filled her every time Ava achieved something new and she couldn’t control her emotions.

„I just want to be sure, that you’re ready for it.” The teenager stayed calm, as if it was her whos kid was about to sign a lifechanging contract, not the other way around. „Everyone will find out that you have me. The fans will know how young you had me.”

„I’ve had years to learn how to deal with the fans.” Lucy couldn’t get used to how mature her daughter has become. „How about we deal with it the good old Bronze way?"

„Tell no one and see how that goes for us? Sounds good to me. I wanna see people freak out and try to figure out our connection. My old teammates would always freak out about things like that. They’d create all of those speculations and conspiracy theories and I couldn’t say anything.”

That’s when they knew the conversation was over. Both Bronze women laughing and already turning on the TV, to watch another episode of Station 19.

When Keira and Ona came home a few hours later, there was a celebratory dinner waiting. Lucy didn’t let Ava help with any of the cooking and didn’t even let her set the table. „We’re celebrating you, so go sit down and put some music on.” She said, when the teen came asking what to do.

Ava was a big music fan and making hours long spotify queues and playlists was something she loved doing. Finding new music and then sharing it with her family was kind of a hobby for her.

„What is that smell?” Ona asked Ava, when she came up to greet her with a hug.

„I don’t know, she wouldn’t let me help, or even enter the kitchen.” Ava shrugged. „But if I was guessing from the smell, I would say she’s making my favourite lemon and chilli shrimp.” The smirk on her face told then, that she knew that was exactly that.

„Lucy! Why didn’t you let your kid help you with dinner?”

„It’s a special occasion! We’re celebrating her. I can’t let my daughter cook her own celebratory dinner.” When the two younger women heard that, Ona turned to look at Ava, while Keira turned to Lucy.

"What did you do?"

„Lucy! You weren’t supposed to encourage violent behaviour!”

They both said it at the same time and this time Lucy smiled sheepishly, like she actually had something to be ashamed of.

To be honest, the last time Lucy made a celebratory dinner for her daughter, was when Ava beat up a homophobe. When she picked her up from school, she told her teachers she would deal with her at home, but instead made a whole day celebrating her. She had to face a scolding from both her girlfriends that day.

„I didn’t do anything!” Ava lifted her hands in surrender.

„Yes you did. You are incredible.” Lucy said to the teenager and then turned to her girlfriends. „We’ll tell you as we eat.” They moved to the dining room and she grabbed an already opened bottle of white wine. “Ava? Do you want some?”

Lucy preferred for Ava to learn to drink responsibly under supervision, than for her to go out and learn it by drinking irresponsibly. She knew that her going out to drink with friends was inevitable, but she wanted for her to know how the alcohol affects her beforehand.

They finally sat down and Lucy distributed the shrimp (Ava was right) equally for everyone. As Ava started eagerly eating her dinner, Ona and Keira looked at Lucy expectantly. They were still sceptical, not sure if what they hear will actually be positive.

“So what’s the news?” Ava put down her fork, to tell them, but Lucy was faster.

“The details have not been discussed with the club yet, but Ava told me today, that she was offered a full senior team contract from Barca.” Both women who just heard the news stood up and wrapped the teenager in a tight hug.

“They said to discuss it with mom and then we’ll negotiate the contract. We’ll probably do the negotiations the day after tomorrow, since mom already called them to set it up. And it’s not like I need for them to pay me much, I’m not planning on moving out anytime soon. I already told mom I’ll contribute to the living costs accordingly, but she told me to save up the money and not worry about it.”

“It’s gonna be so fun to play and train with you!” Ona beamed. “We’re gonna cause so much mayhem.” She whispered in her ear, so that neither of the responsible adults (mostly Keira, neither of them was sure that Lucy could be called a responsible adult) could hear.

Lucy couldn’t believe this was her life. Two beautiful and wonderful girlfriends, who cared for her daughter. Ava starting a professional football career at just 17 years old. All four of them living their dreams in sunny Barcelona.

...

A week later, after Lucy’s morning field practice and Ava skipping out halfway through her school day, they were sitting in a room with a bunch of FC Barcelona officials, some of the coaching stuff. Pen in hand, number 17 shirt with the name A. Bronze on the back, Ava signed her contract. At first Lucy hid behind the cameras, not wanting to be captured by the media team. They also took some pictures with her in them, for later and for private use.

The team had an afternoon gym session that day, that Ava would be joining them on for the first time. They didn’t tell the rest of the team, besides the captains, about her contract, so it was going to be a surprise.

When everyone was finally in the gym, starting their workouts, Ava waited out the door with Jona. She was wearing her brand new training gear, with number 17. The coach entered the gym first, telling her to wait outside. He then got everyone’s attention. It took about 3 minutes, but finally everyone was quiet and looking at him.

“Most of you don’t know this yet, but we have a new player joining us, who just signed her contract.” It wasn’t surprising to have new people signing, since it was the middle of the January transfer window, and players often joined teams before it was announced.” Before I let her in, I’m seriously warning you, not to burn the whole training centre to the ground with her involved.” He pointed at the group of younger players. “I’m talking to you.” He opened the door to let Ava enter. “Everyone, welcome Baby England to the team!”

“Lucy why is your baby in our gym?!”

“Lucy you lost your kid again!”

“A little baby! Can I hold her?!”

“Jona! It’s dangerous to have little kids running around the gym.”

The teasing exploded within the gym, which caused Ava to frown. She tried to look upset, but in reality it made her happy, that she just signed her contract and her teammates immediately accepted her into their group, by teasing her and being annoying. This team was incredibly tight knit, many people bleeding blaugrana (Alexia especially). They were a family, and even though she, as Lucy’s daughter, was kind of already a part of it, now as their teammate she could finally be its actual member.

After about a minute of the room being filled with their teammates voices and laughter, Alexia decided that it was enough of teasing for Ava’s first hour on the team.

“Ok idiotas! Leave the kid be and get back to work. Vamos!" When everybody seemed to return to their own devices, Alexia turned to the teen. "We’re happy you’re joining us Ava and if you ever need anything and want to talk to someone who isn’t your mother or her girlfriends, I’m always there.”

After that, the team got back to their workouts, Jona explaining to Ava what she was supposed to be doing, and leaving them to be looked at by the performance coaching team.

When halfway throughout the session, their phones started to blow up (mostly Lucy’s), they knew that Ava joining the team has been announced to the public, and the mayhem of speculation has started.

The post description stated:

fcbfemeni We’re happy to announce, finishing her B team contract, U-20 England Lioness Ava Bronze has signed a 2 year senior team contract! Welcome to the family!

“Just so you know” Lucy warned everyone. “We’re not saying anything about Ava’s relation to me. We decided it would be funny to let the fans make up their own theories.”

“Idiotes” muttered Alexia, but her face was showing nothing but amusement.

Mapi, who was standing next to her, the two doing their rehab exercises together, burst out laughing.

“I think you mean geniuses!” She got a glare from unimpressed Ingrid.

“I can’t wait to watch all of the theories on tiktok.” Stated Ava. “Or tumblr. That one’s crazy, cause most people there are more or less anonymous. Some of you wouldn’t survive there.” She laughed to herself, thinking about the fanfics and crazy posts she’s seen on there.

“You have to show me.” Stated Mapi.

“I wanna see that.” Jana joined the conversation. “Mapi, can we create a tumblr account for you?”

“Si” She turned to Ingrid, who was already rubbing her temples, with a big grin on her face. “The kids will teach me the internet.”

“You guys, back to work, you can talk when we finish.” Alexia went back to her captain self.

...

Three days after Ava’s signing was announced, before they started their evening movie, she was reading speculation posts on social media. She was going through a post comparing her and Lucy’s characteristics, when Keira looked over her shoulder. (Lucy and her girlfriends usually respected her privacy, but now, they became her annoying older teammates, so the privacy went out the window.)

“How are you feeling with all that social media attention? Did the fact that your private life isn’t so private, catch up to you yet?”

“Nice try.” The teen switched her phone off. “My mom is considered one of the hottest female football players, and most of my friends growing up were women’s football fans. Let’s just say that your friends swooning over your mother, is both hilarious and traumatising.” Keira jumped over the back of the couch and sat next to her girlfriend’s daughter.

“Can’t blame them for appreciating how hot she is.” Ava smacked Keira’s shoulder and the redhead pretended it hurt her. “Okay, okay!” she laughed “What was that post about? I saw your face.”

Ava unlocked her phone to show Keira the post she was reading. “Wow, they’re attentive. I’ve lived with you for like half of your life and didn’t notice that you have the same facial bone structure as her.”

“Most people assume I’m her cousin. Some had the right idea, but quickly disputed it, saying that there’s no way she had me at 15 and managed to go pro a year later. Some people even found some pictures of her with little me.” She scrolled a few posts down, where the post had a picture of the 2009 University of North Carolina soccer team, with little Ava on Tobin’s shoulders. “No idea how they found it and connected the dots that it’s me."

“Some of those people should work for the FBI.” Keira laughed.

“Who should work for the FBI?” Asked Lucy, coming out from the kitchen into the living area, with two cups of tea. Ona walked behind her, focused on not spilling the tea, from her own two cups, that were filled to the brim.

“Some of the fans found some pictures from your UNC days and connected the dots, that the little kid in them is Ava. They’re trying to figure out your connection and some of them are scarily good at it.” Keira explained while the teenager showed them the post on her phone as proof.

With her other hand, Ava took the big cup of tea, that Lucy handed her. She took a sip, gave her phone over to Keira, and stood up to take out their favourite cup coasters from the drawer in the coffee table.

Each of them had their specific coaster.

Keira’s coaster, had a picture of Leah, that she took against her friend’s will. The England captain then gave her the coaster for Christmas, saying that it was so that she would think about her every time she drank tea at home.

Ona’s coaster had a Manchester United logo on it and she used it simply to annoy her girlfriends and Ava. When Ona moved to Barcelona, Lucy wrote “Is shit” below the club name. Still, at least she was sure no one in this household would ever use her coaster. She considered putting the United logo on other things she preferred to keep to herself and everyone kept stealing. Like her half a liter cup, that she drank tea from.

Lucy’s coaster was a part of a mother’s day gift she got from Ava. It had a picture of 18 year old Lucy, holding 3 year old Ava, thrown over her shoulder. A colourful Comic Sans writing said the classic “Best Mom Ever” in the middle. She had in made with her aunt Sophie’s help when she was 11, and Lucy never stopped using it since she got the gift.

Ava’s coaster had a quote from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It said “Sick of tea? That’s like being sick of breathing!” She had a matching tea cup, that had Uncle Iroh’s face on the other side. The teenager watched the show, from start to end, at least three times, so when she saw the set in a store, she couldn’t resist buying it.

Like always, it took them 15 minutes to decide on the film they would be watching. They settled on rewatching Ocean’s 8, since all of them loved it. The hot cast wasn’t discouraging either.

They situated themselves on the L shaped couch. Lucy and Ona sat next to each other, on the wider but shorter part of the lounge. Ava, laid across the longer part. Her head in Lucy’s lap, her legs on Keira’s knees.

It may have been a great movie, but Ava has seen it multiple times already, so despite Cate Blanchett in suits being on the screen, with her mom’s fingers running through her hair and Keira lazily drawing patterns of her bare legs, she was asleep halfway through it.

When she woke up, she was surprised to find herself in her own bed. It was like nothing changed since she was just 5 years old and Lucy would carry her to bed. She may have not known about the kisses that Lucy left on her forehead, as she tucked her 17 year old daughter, into her bed, but she felt a warm feeling in her chest and knew how much her mom cared about her.

...

Every new signing had to do a media video, to show herself to the fans. So a week after signing her contract, Ava had to come to the training facility an hour before practice started. The media team led her to a seat in front of some cameras, with the training field behind her back.

“So, we asked fans on social media, to leave questions for you.” One of the media people (Ava didn’t remember their name and was too embarrassed to admit it) started. “We chose some that we thought were most appropriate. That alright with you?” They checked, in case the teen wasn’t comfortable with answering questions on camera.

“I’m good.” She was given about ten cards with questions printed on them and smiled. “Vamos!” She laughed and the camera stared rolling.

“Hi! I’m Ava Bronze and this is fan questions!” She claimed in fluent Spanish, looking into the camera.

“First question is from Mila.” She read from the first card. “Hola Mila!” She looked back up at the camera and waved. Then, she looked back down and continued reading. “’What is your favourite food?’ I love that question, cause I love food. I love things like ice cream and oat cookies, but for food I’m actually allowed to eat more of than sweets, my favourite is probably one of the only meals I can actually cook by myself, which are shrimps, with lemon, chili and garlic. We usually eat it on special occasions with my mom. She cooked it for me when she found out I was offered a pro contract.”

“Next one is from Reyna. ‘Who’s your favourite football player and who did you idolise growing up?’ Well, since I’m a striker, my favourite player is Ewa Pajor. She’s incredible and I think she’s the most underrated player. I got to meet her at the previous champions league final and she was super nice, even though she was sad cause they lost. My dream is to one day learn the bicycle kick from her. As for the players I idolised growing up. Well, I’m one of the few people my age who mostly watched women’s football and not the men’s. Another striker, Ellen White was always someone I looked up to. I love Tobin Heath, she’s brilliant on the ball and her style of play is very similar to Barca’s tight spaces technique. I was never interested in defending, but I always admired Lucy Bronze.”

“Jake asks, ‘What are your hobbies outside of football?’. Well Jake, I have so many we could make a separate video about them.” She laughed, but the media team noted it for another time. “First of all, one of my biggest, and most known among friends and family is photography. I love capturing the worlds beauty, without changing anything, just showing it as it is. I love traveling, which is kind of connected with every other hobby. I love hiking, rock climbing, mountain biking and sailing. Also, I listen to music all the time and love going to concerts. All of those hobbies include travel, so does football, so that’s a good thing.” She was about to go to the next question, but looked up to add one thing. “Also, I saw the media team taking notes when I said we could make a video about my hobbies, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing more about them in the future.”

“The next question is from Anya. ‘What do you like about Barca and what’s your favourite club team?’ Well, I have two favourite club teams and one of them is Barca. My mom will kill me for saying that publicly, but my other favourite team is Arsenal. She’s not a fan of red English clubs, especially Manchester United and Arsenal. But I love both Barca and Arsenal for similar reasons. Both clubs have this culture of family in football. Like, both of the teams have players who would never leave their team. Their academies are strong and many players grow up to be culers or gunners. There’s this loyalty that other clubs often don’t have. Like, not only for players but also fans. With other clubs, people are often fans of the footballers that play for them and not as much of the club, but with those two, it’s about more than the football. At least that's my view, even though most clubs have their die hard fan community. It’s a whole culture of those clubs that people love and I think it’s admirable.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the badge on her shirt. “I’ve moved a lot in my childhood, so I never had the opportunity to grow up within one club, but there are people like Alexia and Leah Williamson, who bleed their club’s colours.”

Ava answered all of the questions given to her and as she was at the last one, she noticed a few of her teammates making funny faces at her, telling her that training was about to begin. She laughed at them and looked into the camera.

“I can see some of my teammates telling me to wrap this up. Thank you for the questions, they were all great and I can’t wait to see you all in the crowd soon!” The camera was cut and the media team thanked her and let her go with the other girls.

...

Unlike other girls coming up from the B team, Ava came into the first team in the middle of the season and wasn’t there to replace an injured player. The coaches decided to give her two weeks of getting used to playing with the first team in training before they named her on the game day players list. It's not like she had not ever played in the first team before, but it was her first time as officially the senior player.

Her first match was an away game against Sevilla. She started out on the bench, with her mom sitting next to her.

“Stop kicking the grass. You’ll leave a hole.” Lucy put a hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing nervously.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Ava said, but her mom knew it was just the stress talking and her daughter wasn’t actually feeling sick. “What if I trip over my own legs and embarass myself? It has happened before.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing great in training. Jona wouldn’t have put you on the team list if he didn’t think you were ready.” She smiled and waited for Ava to look at her. “We’ve talked about it. You’ll probably come on in the 75th or 80th minute for Pina. You’ll do what you do best and rock it out there. You’re my daughter, you’ll do great.” Ava laughed at her mother’s ego, but visibly relaxed.

Just like always, the team was doing great. Pina scored in the 18th minute and they went into halftime with a 1-0 lead over Sevilla.

Around the 70th minute, when Caro and Salma were coming in for Vicky and Esmee, Jona told Ava, Lucy, Patri and Bruna to start warming up. While they were running on the sidelines, three minutes after coming in, Caro scored a goal and they ran to celebrate with the rest of the bench. Not even two minutes later, Mario added her name to the scoreline.

The time for them to come on couldn’t come faster and at the same couldn’t come fast enough. As she lined up, Ava was starting to panic. She was lined up in front of Lucy and when the ref showed her number in green, she felt her mom kick her in the ass. “You’ll do great. Just go out there and have fun.”

With that, she hugged Claudia, who ran up to her to leave the field. As she entered the game, the whole stress disappeared. Everything went quiet. She had 10 minutes of game time left and she used it wholly.

It was the 89th minute, when Ava found herself at the good end of a beautiful pass from Patri. Without hesitation she took the ball down to her feet, weaved around the last defender and with all her might, kicked the ball into the top right corner. The goalkeeper tried to save it, flying as high as she could, but she just couldn’t get her fingers on the ball in time.

Before she could even register what happened, she was being lifted in the air by Patri and surrounded by all of her teammates. “That’s my kid!” Lucy’s voice came though the ringing in her ears. When she was put down on the ground, she felt Ona put an arm around her and tap her head. “That’s our wonder kid!” She kissed her on the cheek and ran off, back into her position.

Not much happened after her goal. It was the final minutes, so they just passed the ball between each other, waiting for the final whistle. When it final came, a big smile took over Ava’s face. It was like she was high. Scoring a goal in her first game for the first team, coming out on the field with her mom right behind her. Her mom’s girlfriends out there with them. She was surrounded by family and friends. She couldn’t believe how great it felt to be there.

...

It was an evening game, so they were staying at a hotel in Sevilla. They didn’t even get back to the hotel when Ava got an Instagram notification, that Lucy tagged her in a post. She decided not to look at it, until she was back in her room with Vicky. Her teammates had other plans. “Aww, how cute.” “Look at that little face.” “Ava, you were so cute as a kid, what happened?” Could be heard through the coach and she had to change plans and look at the post.

lucybronze How proud I am to be your mom. It feels like just yesterday I was becoming a teen mom, I look back a second later and you’re already scoring goals for Barcelona’s first team. Where did this time go? So proud of you my baby 🥳

The first picture showed a 2 year old Ava kicking a football into a tiny goal set up in Lucy’s parent’s garden. The next one came from an hour before, taken in the perfect moment, when the ball left her foot and was flying towards the goal. There were a few more pictures of Ava playing football through the years, but the first two were most the important.

Five minutes after Lucy uploaded the post, both Bronze women had to put their phones on do not disturb mode, cause they were constantly vibrating with notifications.

While laying in bed, ready to go to sleep that night, she looked back at her day. She was playing football and scoring goals for the team of her dreams at just 17 years old. She had her mom by her side. The team was wonderful. She grew up surrounded by football players and now, she was one of them. This was her dreams coming true.

[prologue-ae]

| Sorry? | Yu Jimin

Yu Jimin x fem reader

ANGST, I FELT LIKE HURTING PPL TODAY. CRIED, SOBBED WHILE WRITING.

You and Jimin were in a relationship, everything was going amazing, she was great. You were totally in love, absolutely infatuated with the girl, oh how everything could go so wrong?

The ravenette would simply hurt you. Around the school campus she was known as a ‘play girl’ how dumb could you be to think this was different? Even your friend Yunjin had said to you “be careful Kay..? She’ll hurt you.” Did you follow her advice? No and now look where you were.

You’d walked to her usual spot at the bleachers to have lunch with her. That’s until you froze in spot, eyes widened. The bag of food dropped to the ground looking at something you’d only assume is a nightmare. There she was, the girl you loved so dearly, with.. a guy? To be exact the sight infront of you. Was your girlfriend, Jimin sat on the 4th level of the bleachers with. Jaewook. Yup, the football star, the popular jock. The one kissing your girlfriend infront of your eyes.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, you quickly turnt away running, you weren’t sure where. But anywhere, anywhere better than here.

Jimin knew. Of course she did, you also knew from the look she gave with her eyes at you once they were open during her little kiss. She’d heard the thump of a bag falling on the floor, moving her eyes to where you were. Oh god. She was kissing Lee Jaewook infront of you. Whatever like she cared, she had a reputation to keep up. And some nerd like you would just mess it up right..?

You’d ran into a bathroom stall locking it, luckily enough your school was rich enough to have fully closed off stalls. You’d slid down the wall already, clutching at your knees and sobbing. God how you felt pathetic. What did you even expect? A popular girl known as a ‘player’ to change her ways for you? Some nobody. Some random nerdy girl she’d gotten an interest in. God how stupid could you be?

How stupid could you be to trust her, to put your walls down. To let her infiltrate your whole mind and heart, and god! To let her take your love and believe she returned it.. why would you believe such lies!

You’re supposed to be a smart girl, and yet here you are the same one being tricked and left in the dust. Like it was nothing. Was none of it real? Probably not, what’s the point of even asking that to yourself. You sat in that stall sobbing, for the rest of the school day. Pathetic honestly, what sitting there crying over someone who doesn’t even love you? God that’s all you could think, with the millions of thoughts flying through your head you couldn’t help but criticise yourself could you? That’s how it’d always been for you. You’d never be enough and just once. Once you thought maybe you were, if you could get the prettiest girl on campus to stay with you and love you.. maybe you were worth it right? Oh how sorely mistaken you were.

You’d never felt this way before, sure it sounds lame and cliche but you hadn’t dated before jimin, she was your first and god! Did it hurt. You’d never felt this type of pain. Nobody had hurt you physically.. but for some reason your heart ached, felt like it’d split into two. Your head pounded and your brain worked tirelessly. Your eyes were sore, red and puffy from crying, your throat was aching, sore in pain from the sobs wracked out of you. Your lungs were so tired of having to pump quicker for the gasps and chokes of breath you’d let out. Your nose was full but couldn’t be blown, because it seemed when you tried you’d loose your breath or nothing was in it. Everything hurt, it hurt so much. Your legs were weak, it felt like you couldn’t stand. And your arms were sore having to reach up and rub your eyes or grab tissue. Your back hurt from hunching over your legs on the ground, your neck hurt even more bend down to face the ground. Your hair was a mess from you scrunching, pulling and messing it up out of pure frustration. God did you have it bad for her.

Jimins POV:

The rest of the school day you didn’t bother going to lessons, you’d been in that stupid stall all day and cried your eyes out. Jimin had a few lessons with you that day, math, English 4th and 5th period. As much as the girl said she didn’t care.. she knew she’d hurt you. Ok sure maybe she was labelled as a ‘playgirl’ or a ‘player’ it didn’t mean she wanted to hurt you. As much as she’s known as a terrible person.. she couldn’t help but feel some of it was real, some of it was.. love? No. She couldn’t think that way, with the way she was labelled everyone was just waiting for her to wreck the only loving relationship she had, one she didn’t have any bad intentions for. To get something, one for her pure self.

Who’s she kidding? Pure? Her? Oh god. She’d just wrecked and tilted a pure girls heart and world, and she was saying she was pure? She almost wanted to laugh at her own inner thoughts. Except for the ones at the back of her mind..

Did I actually hurt her..? Why did I do that! I’m so stupid, why’d I kiss fucking Lee Jaewook.. why didn’t I chase after her to explain. Why do I ruin every relationship I’m in? What wrong with me, why. Why.

Her internal thoughts were everywhere, an absolute mess. Almost as much as you in the bathroom, something she was unaware of. Of course she’d noticed your absence in the classroom.. but she’d assumed you’d gone home because you were sick or something. No she hadn’t, she just wanted to try have a good conscience and pretend she didn’t know she’d ruined you. A pure girl who hadn’t done anything wrong but.. try to love her.

(1 month later)

Jimin never realised she could feel this type of pain before, she never realised maybe, just maybe she’d care for another person other than herself. That was until 3 days after that she hadn’t seen you show up to school, 3 days turnt to 3 weeks, 3 weeks turned to a month. A whole month? Why weren’t you there? Where were you. You never missed school, your stupid nerdy self had to stay and study.

You had high standards after all, having the will to try and get to Harvard, become a lawyer. But. Where were you? She tried to convince herself everything was fine, but she was internally spiralling every day.

She was panicking, was it her? What happened to you? Are you ok?

The girl didn’t know what to do, she’d never hurt or thought about her ‘flings’ after she’d dropped them. But, you were different. Were you just a fling or something more? Were you something? God she didn’t know! She’d never felt this way before! She was frustrated as well, frustrated at you, frustrated at herself. Frustrated at everyone! She was going absolutely ballistic in her own mind trying to rationalise your absence, trying not to take the blame for what she caused. It hurt her so much not to see your cute face, not to hear your soft voice answering questions. Not hearing your hum as you wrote or studied. What the hell! She was going insane. She never even paid attention to any of her other ex’s. Why were you so different?

Just why! She didn’t understand, every time she’d look at your seat during attendance, empty. Nothing sat there, none of your dumb stationary, your thick books. Your cute shoulder bag. The glasses you’d carry around but not wear because it ‘hurt’ your nose to wear it for a long time. God what the hell was she even thinking right now. She missed you, a lot. Everything about you.

Every time she’d look back and see you missing her heart burnt. It stung, like someone had set a bonfire and it slowly crackled and spread burning almost everything slowly. As they say, a fire starts off slow before it spreads and causes rampage.

And that’s exactly what was happening, a fire was causing rampage in her heart. Not seeing you made her feel insane for the amount she overthought and worried for you. The girl even considered asking your friends Yunjin, Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura or Eunchae about you.. but the dirty looks all five girls would send to her as she walked past hinted at her not to.

She really did want to message you, but she was the one who’d ruined you. What right did she have to do that? Is what she thought when it was 2 weeks in. A month. She was too far gone to car, as soon as she got home she opened her phone and your chat ‘Lovey 💞🤓’ there it was. The fire burning again. She ignored and started to type “hey I haven’t seen you at school. Where are you?” That was when she pressed send. And her whole world stopped, her eyes twitched and her smile, well her small grin due to the name and past chats. Dropped.

Everything. Stopped, green. Green? You. You blocked her? Her eyes twitched as she began thinking again she really hates me now. Why did I ruin everything. She blocked me? She doesn’t block anyone. She told me herself only if- only if they hurt her.

That’s when she paused. Only if they hurt you. She hurt you. Without her notice she saw water fall onto her screen. Water from where?- until she felt the tears sliding down her face. What? She’d never- never cried over someone before.. someone especially an ex. But here she was, not even having noticed her crying beginning before she saw and felt the water sliding down her cheeks.

She was really far gone now. If she was crying over you. That’s- that’s never happened and she knows it’s crazy. She hated to have to admit it to herself, this hurt a lot more than her past ‘flings’ and with that her whole world simply shattered as she gave in and began crying.

Your POV:

Ever since that day you’d been at home, you did not slack on your studies you studied yourself, learning from textbooks, tutors, YouTube. Anything really, anything to avoid going to school, seeing her the girl who you’d assume doesn’t even care for you at this point.

You hadn’t been responding to anyone, all you’d do all day is study, listen to depressing music and eat. Your phone had been off ever since that day. As soon as you’d managed to finally get up and get out the stall. Looking an absolute mess by the way, not your usual cute look. You’d ran home and as soon as you’d locked yourself in your room you blocked her. Not just her number. You blocked her out of your life.

Blocked @ katarinabluu. The same message you saw several times that day, instagram, snapchat, TikTok, Pinterest, twitter, facebook. Every social media platform you could think of. Any slither of connection she had to you. You blocked her number. You deleted (tried but ended up simply putting them in a secret folder) every picture of her, you deleted (privated) all the pictures of her on your social media. And you took all the Polaroids of her and you in your room or just her and threw them in the trash (you placed them in a secret box, where you also put everything she’d ever given you or even touched in it and placed it deep in your wardrobe).

That was until your parents went on a business trip, great left alone at home. You felt so shitty just laying in bed, getting out eating instant noodles or anything quick. Going back into your room to wallow and listen to depressing music. Then bury yourself into books. This was your coping mechanism. Having had your first heartbreak it was to be expected you didn’t know what to do. Ding in the middle of your thoughts a loud interruption of the doorbell.

You groan rolling out of bed and going to your door. Opening it with a glare and an unfriendly look. Until you froze. There she was in all her glory. Yu Jimin, the girl who broke your heart. She smiled awkwardly. A smile in which you did not return. You were furious, depressed and tired, everything about this confused you. How dare she! How dare she stand infront of you on your porch! Holding- Roses and your favourite chocolate and a big dumb teddy bear you’d kill to snatch right now! How dare she have the audacity to even, come into your vision after what she did! Is what you would’ve said if your whole body weren’t frozen and you weren’t stuck glaring at her with wide eyes.

She cleared her through and muttered “Uhm. Listen, I’m not the best with words but.. I know I hurt you, I really really do. But I’ve recently found out well, I actually. Care for you.. and you’re very different to other people I’ve gone out with. Listen I’m trying to say.. well. I’m sorry”

Your eye twitched you say “your- your sorry..?” She flinched, your tone was hard, cold nothing she’d heard before. She said “uhm.. yes” you say “you’re sorry! After all the hurt you put me through you stand her- you- you stand here and tell me sorry! I watched you kiss Jaewook! I sobbed for the rest of the day over you! I can’t go to school or even do anything because of you! Your sorry? Sorry? Sorry doesn’t even cut it jimin! You were my first girlfriend! My first partner in general and I never knew how much I really fucking loved you and how stupid I could be to fall for you! Because this shit hurts like hell and I’ve never wallowed in my tears for a month!”

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she said “No- Y/N I really am sorry. I swear. I swear to god I swear on my life! You know that I’m a devoted catholic, please- please believe me. I’m desperate. I love you so much! And I’m so stupid to have not realised it before- before I hurt you and ruined everything! It made my whole world tilt and my heart felt like it was burning not seeing you! Not having you around, not there! And after everything it made me realise how much I need you. How much I actually love you! I went around asking about you I- I fucking tried to message you on everything! I used Facebook for the first time. Who does that! I mean-“ she laughed awkwardly and pathetically between that and what she said next “I do that. Because, I really do love you. And if we could.. try again I promise I’ll never do what I did again, I swear! Y/N please!” The once powerful and cocky girl you knew.. was quite literally kneeling down on your porch placing her gifts beside her and looking up at you with tears in her eyes, her face showing her desperation. As she said “I hurt you! And you were my everything, but I didn’t see it until.. until you were gone.”

Authors note: I’m gonna leave this to an open ending for y’all! It’s up to you, forgive her or not? Personally I would but that’s just cause I’m whipped for her.but whatever again sorry for the bad writing you just read 😭 and late updates. ❤️

[lemuriasgoddess]

Choices

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Pairings: MC x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

Summary: A/B/O AU in which the boys are roommates in uni - MC hides her Omega status until her heat is triggered one night during a party at the boys' house…

A/N: Please note that English isn't my first language therefore there might be some mistakes here and there - summary vague to avoid some spoilers - MC has a name

The stadium smelled of pop-corn… and Zayne. The Omega sighed as her childhood friend's scent invaded her nostrils. He had invited her to watch Caleb's game that night. It had come as a total surprise. Zayne, doctor-to-be, never left his bedroom in the house he shared with Caleb and their friends. She would never have imagined the Alpha would be interested in sports, especially college football. Even when it was Caleb's team playing. Zayne disliked the noise, the shouts, the crowd… he always had. He wasn't much of a socializer. He wasn't one for small talk. Unless it was with her. He would have small talks with her all day every day. Big talks, even, if he could. But Zayne was busy. Zayne was going to be a heart surgeon, and failure was not an option.

"Finished your homework already, Dr. Zayne?"

Zayne raised an eyebrow and almost rolled his eyes when he saw the teasing smirk on her face.

"Not quite."

"Did Caleb get you the tickets?" she finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"No?" Zayne replied with a frown. "I bought them myself, why?"

"Oh… just… didn't think this was your kind of thing… is all."

"It's a big game for Caleb, I knew you'd want to be here for him."

"You didn't have to come with me, I know you hate these things."

"I don't… hate it. And it's Caleb, we should be here for him."

Mina nodded. She was unconvinced, but she nodded. This wasn't Caleb's first big game. But it was the first time Zayne was in the audience.

Mina hadn't seen Zayne in some time, but she was certain something was different about him now. He had always been a serious person, not just a serious student. Sometimes, it was hard to know if he was enjoying the moment, as he always seemed to want to be anywhere but wherever he was. When Caleb told her he was moving into a house with his friends, she did not imagine Zayne was one of them. And she did not imagine Caleb would start behaving like the future doctor either. Ever since he left for university, two years before she graduated high school herself, he had become so distant. They barely saw each other anymore. When she was accepted at the same university, she hoped things would go back to how they used to be, back to normal. But it wasn't the case. He was avoiding her. He barely even responded to her texts anymore. It was a complete mystery, why her adoptive brother would start ignoring her all of a sudden. In truth, it was Mina's first heart break. And she had shed many tears over it.

Mina cheered for Caleb and his team, and perhaps her spirit had helped them win, though they didn't really need any help. Zayne had remained seated, only clapping whenever he found acceptable. As the stadium emptied, he caught Mina by the arm and spoke strange words to her.

"Do you want to come?"

"What?"

"To the party, do you want to come?"

"You're hosting a party?"

Zayne snorted as if the very idea was laughable. "No. Caleb is."

"Who- who will be there?"

"His teammates I'm assuming, the cheerleaders, the guys…"

"What guys?"

"Our roommates."

"Ah, right…" The guys.

Mina shook her head. "Does Caleb know you're inviting me?"

"I don't think he'd object."

"You'd be surprised…" she mumbled under her breath.

"So, are you coming?"

Mina thought about it. There was a very good reason she shouldn't go to a house full of drunken boys. Not boys. Alphas. And perhaps her being there might finally get Caleb's attention. His anger and disapproval also, but his attention.

"Yeah, okay, I'll come."

***

Anger, disapproval, attention… Mina got all of that. And more. When Caleb spotted her in the middle of his living room, a red cup of who knew what in hand, surrounded by Alphas… he saw red.

"Ow, you're hurting me!" Mina whined as her foster brother dragged her outside.

"What were you thinking coming here?!"

"Zayne brought me!"

"You should've said no!"

"I wanted to see you! I never see you anymore, this is what I have to do to see my brother now?"

"I am not your brother," Caleb hissed at her, startling her. He instantly regretted it when he saw the look on her face, the hurt in her eyes. "I-" he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Why would you say that to me?" Mina's voiced cracked as tears filled her eyes.

"No, baby, that's not what I meant, I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice, his soft voice that he only used for her and that she had missed deeply. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, but he was avoiding her eyes.

Frustrated, Mina tried to push him away from her, but he was like a rock, unmovable.

"I hate you," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

"That's okay," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss in her hair.

"No, it's not okay!"

She was crying now, her face buried in his shirt. "You left me! You left me alone! Gran died and you weren't there!'

"I'm sorry, I couldn't… I had to…"

"What?" she shouted as she pushed herself away from him, from his embrace. "What did you have to do that was so important you weren't at Gran's funeral? You weren't there when I needed you the most!"

"I can't… I can't be there for you anymore, Mina…"

"Why not? Why do you hate me so much?"

"No, baby, you don't get it, I don't hate you," he assured her, taking her face in his hands, making her look at him. "I… I couldn't stay because… because I want something I can't have. And I don't want to hurt you."

"What doest that mean?" she frowned, and in her anger Caleb could see incomprehension.

"Does anyone know? Baby, tell me, does anyone know you're an Omega?"

"No, of course not."

"Good, that's good," he released a sigh of relief before embracing her once again. "No one can know."

Mina froze in his strong embrace. His strong Alpha scent surrounded her like a protective shield.

"Is that… is that why you left me… because I'm an Omega?"

Caleb sighed heavily. "I love you, you know that right?"

"… I love you too."

"One day your suppressants won't do the job anymore, and you'll need… someone. Promise me you'll find a good Alpha."

Silence invaded the backyard. The muffled sounds from the party raging inside was all that could be heard, but neither of them paid it any mind. Mina's hands gripped Caleb's shirt and she trembled slightly in his arms.

"I already have found a good Alpha…"

"Mina…"

"Is that why you left?" she asked, gripping his shirt tightly. He could hear the tears in her voice.

"I'm your brother…"

"No, you're not!"

Caleb chuckled quietly. "Do you see now why I had to go?"

"It's not fair!"

"One day, you'll have to make that decision. And I can't be your brother when you do."

Mina sobbed. "It's not fair…"

"I know… but in the end, no matter what happens, no matter who you choose… I'll always be there for you. Always."

***

Mina entered Zayne's room without knocking. It was unlike her to do such a thing, and Zayne would usually not appreciate it but when he saw her face, her wet cheeks, her red eyes… he chose to remain silent, even when she collapsed on his bed with her shoes on.

"I see you spoke to your brother."

"He's not my brother!"

"What happened?"

Mina sighed. "Don't worry about it, I know you're busy. Just pretend I'm not here."

"But you are here, and you are upset. I would be a bad friend to ignore it."

"Is Caleb my brother?" she mused. "Can he be something else or will he always be my brother…"

"Well, technically speaking, he is not your brother, you were never adopted as such."

"Technically speaking…" she repeated. Was that enough?

"Why? What else do you want him to be?"

What a question that was. The answer was not so simple.

"I'm just going to stay here for a little while… is that okay?"

"Of course."

Zayne eyed the teary girl on his bed for a moment before turning back to the books on his desk.

***

When Mina woke up, she didn't know where she was. That wasn't her bed or her bedroom, and she was still fully clothed, although, someone had removed her shoes.

"Zayne…"

She looked around but the room was empty. The clock on his bedside table showed it was the middle of the night, 3AM. At least the party was over, there was no music or laughter to be heard. She pushed the covers to the side and sat up. She didn't question how she got under the covers of Zayne's bed. She simply put on her shoes and exited the room.

"Hey, watch it!"

Mina gasped as a male voice reprimanded her.

"You're not Zayne," another voice said.

Mina found herself in the hallway with two strangers she could only assume to be Caleb and Zayne's roommates. Two Omegas looking right at her.

"Uh… no I'm… I'm Mina, I'm Caleb's… I'm Caleb's…"

"Sister, yeah we know of you," the one with the purple hair cut her off.

"What are you doing in Zayne's room?" the blonde one inquired.

"Oh, I was… I guess I must have fallen asleep earlier… he was with me before."

"He's in the kitchen making coffee. Hi, I'm Rafayel, this is Xavier."

Mina eyed the two men before her, two Omegas… two claimed Omegas. The bite marks weren't hidden behind a scarf or a ton of makeup. They were worn proudly, adorned on their throats.

"Yeah he's doing an all nighter again," Xavier sighed his disapproval.

"So uh… you and Zayne…" Rafayel said wiggling his eyebrows.

"No," Mina shook her head. "We're just friends."

The look of disappointment could not be missed on the Omega's face, but Xavier only seemed bored. Mina stood awkwardly in the hallway. It wasn't surprising they would think that, after all, she must reek of Zayne's scent now that she had slept in his bedsheets. She needed some fresh air, desperately. She had spent the night in the company of Alphas, had gotten Caleb's scent on her and now Zayne's scent was attacking her senses like a relentless assault against her suppressants.

"I should go," Mina said, awkwardly walking around them to reach the stairs. "It was nice to meet you!"

Rafayel and Xavier watched her leave quietly and once she had disappeared looked back at each other.

"Did you smell that?" Xavier asked.

"Yeah. She needs better suppressants."

Mina found Zayne and Caleb in the kitchen. Caleb was cleaning after his guests, Zayne was, as Rafayel had said, drinking a cup of coffee. Both Alphas smelled her before they heard her, which alarmed the captain of the football team. He dropped everything and rushed over to her.

"Mina, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she frowned, confused by the panicked look on his face. "Why?"

"You.."

The front door opened and didn't allow Caleb to respond. Mina smelled the Alpha as soon as he penetrated the house. He was huge. Not just in size but in height. Imposing, tall and strong. He was wearing a dark suit perfectly tailored to his muscular chest and arms. It made him even scarier. There was no doubt, with his white hair and red eyes, he wasn't just any Alpha. He was the Alpha to lead all Alphas. The leader of the pack.

"Sylus," Zayne greeted. "You're home late."

"I had business," the white haired Alpha said with a voice so deep it shook Mina to her core.

She swallowed heavily. That wasn't normal. The effect he had on her, just with his voice. She looked up at Caleb and saw concern in his eyes.

"Who's this?" Sylus asked as he turned towards her. "Finally found an Omega of your own, Caleb?"

"She's not an Omega."

Sylus raised an eyebrow at Caleb's words. "No?" he cocked his head slightly before he took a step forward.

Mina could feel Caleb tensing up next to her, or perhaps it was her own nervousness she was feeling. Sylus approached her slowly, then leaned over to her, his face coming close to hers, coming down to her neck. Mina felt paralyzed, caged by the Alpha who wasn't even touching her. Sylus breathed her in and hummed. His red eyes moved to find hers and he smirked at the fear he saw in them. He moved away slowly, as his fingers seized her chin and forced her to look up at him.

"Looks like your suppressants decided to quit on you, little Omega," Sylus tsked.

"She just forgot to take them," Caleb assumed.

"No, I didn't," Mina said quietly, knowing what this meant. And from the look on Caleb's face, so did he.

"A valiant effort," Sylus smiled, "to hide your little sister's secret."

"This does not come out of this house," Caleb ordered.

"Who am I going to tell?" Sylus shrugged. "But the suppressants have stopped working, taking them still will only damage her health."

"He's right," Zayne said from behind them. "Do you know who triggered your heat, Mina?"

"My… my heat? No, I'm not in heat," the Omega shook her head.

Sylus laughed. Caleb's heart sank. "Mina… your body has rejected the suppressants… you know what that means."

"But… I feel fine."

"For now," Rafayel said as he appeared in the living room with Xavier.

"You'll feel it soon. And it'll hurt."

"Shut up, Xavier," Caleb growled.

"Do not speak to my Omega that way," Sylus warned.

"Then tell your Omega not to scare m…" Caleb paused.

"Scare your…? You sister? Or your Omega, Caleb?" Sylus asked. "Figured that one out yet?"

"Shut up!"

"That's enough," Zayne called from behind them. "Mina is going into her first heat and she doesn't have an Alpha, now is not the time for us to argue. We need to figure out who triggered her heat as he's most likely her mate."

"Oh please," Rafayel sighed dramatically, "we all know it's you, Zayne, the girl slept in your bed for a few hours, your scent is all over her."

"You what?" Caleb turned towards Zayne, "you let her sleep in your bed, are you insane?" Did you do this on purpose?"

"A few minutes ago, I was still under the impression your sister was a beta, Caleb."

"Caleb," Mina called, her voice quiet and weak, but he heard her nonetheless. "Can we talk about this?"

On Caleb's face was a mixture of anger, uncertainty, panic… and fear.

"Caleb," she begged as tears filled her eyes.

Oh, how he hated to make her cry again, especially on this night.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said before stepping away. Mina's eyes grew bigger with each step he took and she watched him walk away from her. She watched her Alpha exit the house she was now trapped in.

Her heart was ripped apart at the loss of her chosen mate, as his scent vanished while two others invaded her senses. Her blood started to burn in her veins, her belly ached calling for an Alpha that was no longer there.

Her heat had started. It slammed into her with a vengeance, demanding an Alpha, demanding a knot, demanding to be claimed.

Mina collapsed under the weight of her triggered heat and all the pain and aches that came with it.

[meazalykov]

girl in the ring

salma paralluelo x fem!reader

summary: salma didn't think that she would meet the love of her life at the gym

warnings: none, just reader being a huge flirt

the gym is quiet, just like every other night at this hour. 

the only sounds are the faint hum of the treadmill beneath salma's feet and the rhythmic thuds of your fists hitting the punching bag. 

salma didn't expect to see you here again—though, by now, she kind of hopes every time she comes. it’s been a few weeks, maybe more, since she first noticed you. you’re always in the same spot, hammering away at that bag like it holds all your enemies together or something. 

you’re captivating. the dark green matching set on your body flatters your skin tone-- and it’s becoming harder for salma to keep her eyes to herself. 

she tries to focus on lifting, tries to keep her mind on the routine—bench press, dumbbells, deadlifts—but out of the corner of her eye, she can’t help but sneak glances at you. 

your punches are so precise, sharp, like you’ve been doing this for years. the way your arms flex with each hit, toned and controlled, has her completely hooked.

after she finishes her lifts, salma makes her way to the treadmill for some cardio. 

her heart’s already racing, but she tells herself it's from the workout. the boxing ring is in her view now, and she watches as you climb inside, training with one of the coaches. you’re fast—like, really fast. your footwork is insane, and she’s mesmerized by the way you move, dodging and weaving effortlessly before landing a perfect jab. 

she looks at your fast feet and wonders if you're faster than her. your reflexes are insane, something that would've benefited you if you played football-- salma thought.

she knows she shouldn’t stare, but it’s impossible not to.

salma’s still caught up in watching you when she sees you move out of the rings. you look exhausted, yet content at the same time.

she assumes you’re heading to the locker room, but then you’re suddenly right beside her treadmill, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

"so... what’s a pretty girl like you doing here at 3 am?" you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

the treadmill was at an incline, so the barcelona winger lowered it so she was at the same ground level as you.

salma feels a flutter in her chest, momentarily startled but recovering quickly with a smile. 

"i could ask you the same thing, beautiful," she shoots back, eyes sparkling with amusement.

you chuckle softly, and there’s something easy about the way you talk to her, like you’ve known each other for more than just these passing glances. 

"fair enough," you say, running a hand through your slightly tangled hair. 

"i’m y/n, by the way."

"salma," she responds, feeling a small wave of relief. you don’t recognize her—no mention of barcelona or the fact that she plays on one of the biggest football clubs in the world. it’s refreshing.

"nice to meet you, salma," you say, and there’s a spark in the way you look at her, like you’re genuinely interested. 

"so, what brings you to a place like this at this hour?"

salma shrugs, trying to play it cool, though your attention is doing things to her composure. 

"i like it when it’s quiet. less crowded. i can actually focus on my workout."

"yeah, same here," you say, leaning casually against the treadmill. 

"plus, no distractions. unless you count the girl who’s been staring at me for the last thirty minutes."

salma’s smile heated up instantly. "i was not staring!" she protests, though her laughter betrays her.

"oh, you were definitely staring," you tease, your grin widening. 

"but don’t worry, i don’t mind. kinda flattering, actually."

salma rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too. "you’re confident, huh?"

"just observant," you reply with a wink. 

"you know, i don’t usually chat up strangers at the gym, but you’ve got me curious. you’re fit too. wanna grab a coffee after this? or are you one of those girls who have a strict post-gym routine?"

her heart skips a beat, but she tries to keep her cool. unaware that you were feeling the same way.

"i don’t have a routine like that. actually, i was going to ask you if you wanted to grab coffee in the morning."

"why not now?" you counter, raising an eyebrow. "there’s a 24-hour café a couple of blocks from here that i go to. we can grab a drink after we get showers, of course."

salma smirks, finding your spontaneity refreshing. "alright, why not now?" she agrees, feeling an unexpected thrill at the prospect of getting to know you outside this gym.

after both of you shower and change, you head to the small café down the street. the place is cozy, and at this hour, it’s almost as quiet as the gym, with just a couple of people scattered at tables studying for school.

you order your drinks, finding a seat near the window. the conversation flows easily—there’s no awkwardness, no weird pauses.

"so," salma starts, stirring her coffee, "i have to ask. are you, like, a professional boxer or something? you’re really good."

you laugh, shaking your head. "nah, i’m not a boxer. just a hobby, really. it’s my favorite form of working out, but i don’t do it professionally."

salma raises an eyebrow, impressed. "you could’ve fooled me."

"thanks," you say with a small smile. "i’m actually an esthetician. way different from boxing, i know."

"wait, really?" she’s genuinely surprised. "i wouldn’t have guessed that. you seem so... tough."

"hey, i can be tough and take care of people’s skin," you joke, and she laughs, the sound soft and genuine. 

"but yeah, i love what i do. boxing’s just something i picked up because it keeps me in shape and helps me clear my head after a day of extracting blackheads and massaging people."

"i get that," salma nods. "football does the same for me."

your eyes light up in recognition. "football? you play?"

salma hesitates for a second, but then decides to tell you. "yeah, i play for barcelona... i’m a winger."

you blink, taken aback for a moment. "wait, like *that* barcelona?"

she chuckles softly, nodding. "yeah, that one."

"damn," you say, clearly impressed. "that’s really cool."

"thanks," she says, a little relieved that you’re not freaking out over it. "it’s fun. exhausting, but fun."

"i bet," you reply, sipping your coffee. "so, does this mean i’m on a date with a famous footballer?"

she bites her lip, trying not to grin too hard. "maybe. does it bother you?"

"not at all," you answer, leaning back in your chair. "just means i have to step up my game for the second date."

"second date, huh?" she smirks, intrigued.

"if you’ll have me," you tease, your tone playful but sincere.

salma’s heart flutters at the way you look at her, and she can’t help but flirt back. 

"i think i can arrange that. maybe you can come to one of my games. i’ll even get you the best seats."

you grin. "sounds like a plan. just let me know when, and i’ll be there."

the two of you spend the rest of the night talking, laughing, and learning more about each other. it’s easy—effortless, even—and by the time you walk salma back to her car, there’s an undeniable connection between you. 

as she gets in, she pauses, giving you one last smile.

"so, see you at the gym tomorrow night?" she asks.

"wouldn’t miss it," you reply with a wink. "see you around, salma."

and with that, she drives off, her heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with the gym.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[willowsnook]

orange is my favorite color (18+)

Can i get a ham, Swiss, lettuce, mikes way on a gluten free? from @a-beaverhausen

reader x joe burrow x oscar piastri

just let me in

a/n: I’m going to make it to where she’s a stranger to Oscar but not Joe bc it makes more sense for what I’m thinking. also these are my two worlds colliding so it makes me very happy

———————————————————-

The warm Austin air blew through your hair as you made it to the track for COTA, and while you had been to almost every sporting event known to man, this was your first F1 race, and you were excited.

When you and your sister started a podcast a couple of years ago, never in your wildest dreams did you think it would take off like it had. Now, you were an official Barstool Sports podcast and had the opportunity to interview tons of female athletes worldwide. Even though your podcast was geared towards female listeners, you still built relationships with male athletes who supported what you were doing.

“They really just let anyone in here these days don’t they?” You heard a familiar voice call out and turned, smirking, to see Joe Burrow grinning at you. Joe was one of the professional athletes who had been a big supporter of the pod, and you had interviewed him enough times to consider him a friend. He flirted relentlessly with you and you entertained it for the most part but never let it get further than words.

“Hi Joey,” you said, sauntering up to him. He was standing with two other guys who you quickly recognized as Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.

“Guys, this is y/n,” he introduced. “She has a popular sports podcast here.”

You smiled warmly at the two men and they mirrored you.

“I’ve listened a couple of times,” Lando said and you were surprised. “You should talk to Susie Wolf.”

Nodding, you replied, “yeah that is actually on my to do list while I’m here.”

“Is this your first race?” Oscar asked, and you nodded, and a small smile appeared on his face.

You hung around with them for the next half hour, Lando talking your ear off about different F1 things while Oscar chimed in occasionally, but his eyes never left you, making you almost squirm. There was something about him that was so attractive. The calm, quiet demeanor was an interesting contrast from his teammate, but you were into it.

As the group chatted, you couldn't help but steal glances at Oscar. His piercing gaze made your heart race every time your eyes met. You were so caught up in the moment that you almost missed Joe's invitation.

"Hey, y/n, we're heading to the paddock. Want to come along?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, if that’s okay? you replied unsure.

Lando chimed in, "Of course! We'll vouch for you. Plus, it'll give you a chance to maybe set up that interview with Susie."

You nodded eagerly, and the group started moving towards the paddock area. As you walked, Oscar fell into step beside you.

"So, what made you decide to come to your first F1 race?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

"Well, I was invited by the official F1 marketing team. They are really trying to grow interest in the sport in the US, and I have a large audience of people already interested in sports,” you explained. “But I got into it a few years ago after watching the Netflix show. Just haven’t had the time to make it to a race yet.”

Oscar nodded as you talked, and as you headed into a more crowded area, he tugged you into his side so that you wouldn’t get lost. His hand was warm against your waist, and you tried to contain your blush.

“So, since you’re hanging with us, can I assume you are a McLaren fan?” He asked and you smirked as you shook your head.

“RedBull all the way baby,” you teased and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll have to fix that,” he muttered. You made it to the garage, and Oscar was pulled away quickly, so you settled into the atmosphere with Joe.

“Having fun?” He asked and you nodded, watching the garage as it came to life.

“Not as much fun as being at a football game but still fun,” you said with a smile and he threw back his head to laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and you felt your stomach flutter at his words. His eyes were mischievous as he noted your reaction and you quickly averted your eyes. “I think our shade of orange looks better on you, though.”

“Oh yeah?,” you teased, smiling.

“Yeah, this shade makes you look pale,” he said, and you laughed loudly. The garage was getting busier, and you were standing very close to Joe as you tried to stay out of the way. Someone tried to move behind you, causing you to take another step closer to him, which he wasn’t complaining about.

“Here, I know you want to watch,” he whispered before shifting you to turn around. Your back rested against his chest, and you stiffened as you felt his arm wrap around your waist, holding you to him. His fingers were subconsciously tracing your skin as he watched the mechanics work.

Oscar appeared at your side again, his eyes darting between you and Joe with a hint of curiosity.

"Sorry to interrupt," Oscar said, his accent making your heart skip a beat. "But I thought you might like a closer look at the car. It's not every day you get to see one up close."

You nodded eagerly, and he began to guide you through the space, explaining the different parts of the car and the various roles of the team members. His passion for the sport was evident in the way he spoke, and you found yourself hanging on his every word.

As you moved around the garage, you noticed Joe watching you and Oscar with a hint of something in his eyes. Jealousy, perhaps? You pushed the thought aside, focusing on Oscar's explanations. He was easy to talk to and you enjoyed the behind the scenes tour you were getting.

Eventually, it was time for the race, and you rejoined Joe, taking a pair of headphones from him and putting them on to watch. You had a good time, and it was exciting to be there for the action even though both McLaren drivers missed the podium. You hung around the paddock a little longer, chatting with other US athletes who were there and filming some content for a vlog.

By the time you made it back to the hotel, it was later in the evening, and you were starving. Heading towards the bistro in the lobby, you spotted someone waving at you from the corner of your eye. Oscar was sitting at a table by himself, eating dinner.

“Hey,” you said as you approached him.

“Hey,” he replied, “hungry?”

You sunk down into the chair across from him, stealing a menu from a nearby table.

“You did great today,” you praised and he shrugged.

“It was whatever,” he said neutrally. “No hardware to bring home.”

“Well I still thought it was impressive,” you said.

“That is all I was hoping for,” he said genuinely and you felt your cheeks warm at Oscar's words, a flutter of excitement in your stomach. The waiter came by to take your order, and as you chatted over dinner, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Oscar's quiet charm and dry wit.

"So, what's next for you after this race?" Oscar asked, taking a sip of his water.

"Well, I've got a few more interviews lined up here in Austin, then it's back to New York," you replied. "What about you? Where does F1 take you next?"

"Mexico City," he said with a small smile. "Not quite as glamorous as Austin, but should be a good race."

As you continued talking, you couldn't help but notice how easy conversation flowed between you two. Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the restaurant was starting to empty out.

"I should probably head up," you said reluctantly and Oscar stood up, holding out his hand to you.

“Let me walk you up,” he offered and you took his hand, letting him lead you towards the elevators. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” you said looking over at him.

He paused for a second before asking. “Is there something going on between you and Joe?”

“Mutual attraction,” you answered amused. “Nothing has ever come of it, but we don’t see each other a ton.”

“So he wouldn’t be mad if I kissed you right now?” He asked, taking a step closer to you and you thanked god that you were alone in the elevator.

“He probably would,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t.”

That was all the confirmation he needed and he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours. You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you deepened the kiss. Exploring his mouth, you gasped as one of his hands gripped your ass right as he bit down on your bottom lip. The doors opened as you reached your floor, and you dragged Oscar through the hall and to your room.

Swiping the card, the door swung open and Oscar was back on you in a minute.

As Oscar pressed you against the closed door, his lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you let out a soft moan. The heat between you was palpable, months of tension finally breaking.

Oscar's hands roamed your body, caressing every curve as he kissed you deeply. You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head before capturing your lips again.

You pushed off the door, guiding Oscar towards the bed without breaking the kiss. As the back of his legs hit the mattress, he sat down, pulling you onto his lap. You straddled him, grinding your hips against his as his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your skin, his accent thick with desire.

"More than okay," you breathed and he lifted your shirt over your head and he attached his mouth to the top of your chest, sucking harshly to mark you. Just as your fingers traveled down to his waistband, someone knocked on the door filled the room. You pulled back from Oscar, hoping that the person would just go away, but they didn’t.

“I’ll be back,” you muttered, sliding off his lap. Not bothering with a shirt you yanked the door open, irritated. You did not expect to see Joe Burrow standing there.

His eyes darkened as he took in the state you were in, no shirt, flushed lips, messy hair.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner but clearly you are busy,” he said coldly and you flinched.

“Clearly,” you retorted, and his lips pressed into a firm line. Just as you were about to shut the door, you heard Oscar coming up behind you. It felt like the room temperature dropped another 10 degrees with the icy look that crossed Joe’s face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he bit out and you rolled your eyes.

“This is not any of your business,” you said.

“Are you just not into me?” He whined. “I thought we had something, but all he had to do was talk with his pretty little accent, and you dropped your panties.”

Oscar snorted from behind you as you tried to hold back a giggle.

“You know I have a thing for you,” you said as you looked into his sad puppy dog eyes. “It’s just complicated with you.”

“How?” He demanded.

“We run in a lot of the same circles professionally,” you said. “Oscar is rarely even in the US so very no strings attached.”

“I don’t like it,” Joe said crossing his arms.

“Just let him in,” Oscar said from behind you and you looked over your shoulder, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Let him in, I don’t mind sharing,” he said nonchalantly before turning to move back to the bed.

You stood there, stunned for a moment, trying to process Oscar's words. Joe's expression shifted from anger to surprise, then to a mix of curiosity and desire.

"Are you serious?" Joe asked, his voice low and husky.

You looked back at Oscar, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes dark with want. He gave a small nod, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your heart raced as you considered the implications. The thought of being with both of them sent a jolt of excitement through your body. You bit your lip, weighing your options for a split second before making a decision.

"Come in," you said to Joe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving yours as you closed the door behind him. The tension in the air was palpable as you stood between the two men, feeling their heated gazes on your half naked body.

You could feel the electricity in the air as Joe slowly walked towards you. You were caught between two dangerously attractive men, and the thought made your heart race.

Oscar watched with a smirk on his face as Joe stood in front of you, his eyes raking over your body. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer for a kiss.

His lips were soft but urgent against yours, his tongue quickly seeking entrance into your mouth. You responded eagerly, losing yourself in the passionate kiss.

"Isn't this nice?" Oscar's voice interrupted from behind you, making both you and Joe jump. He chuckled at your reaction before moving closer to join in on the kiss.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the feeling of two sets of lips on yours at once, their hands roaming over every inch of your body.

You moaned against Oscar's lips as Joe's hand found its way under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pushed you back towards the bed.

You fell onto the soft mattress with Joe on top of you, his hands eagerly exploring every inch of your body as he kissed down your neck and chest.

Meanwhile, Oscar had stripped off his clothes and was now standing by the edge of the bed, watching with a lustful gaze.

Joe looked up at him and smirked before leaning back to whisper into your ear. "Do you want him too?"

You nodded eagerly as he moved to sit behind you leaving room for Oscar between your legs. Oscar fell down to his knees and helped you get your pants off, pulling your panties down with them.

“So wet for us sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the inside of your thighs. You could feel Joe’s hardness pressing into your back as you leaned against him, whimpering as his fingers circled your nippled, his lips sucking on your neck. You cried out the first time Oscar flicked his tongue out and your hips bucked up, causing Joe to hold you down.

Your body was on fire as Oscar's tongue worked its magic between your thighs. Joe's hands roamed your body, teasing and caressing as he whispered dirty words in your ear. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear.

"That's it, baby," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. "Let us make you feel good."

Oscar's tongue circled your clit before moving deeper, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Joe's fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, sending jolts of electricity through your body. You could feel his hardness pressing against your back, reminding you of what was to come.

"Oh god," you gasped, your hands gripping Joe's thighs as you felt yourself getting close. "I'm gonna-"

"Come for us, sweetheart," Oscar encouraged, and that’s all you needed to push you over the edge, your body locked up as you rode out your orgasm. As you came down from your high, Joe slid out from under you, standing next to the bed.

“Flip over baby,” he said and you obeyed, moving on to your hands and knees. “I’m going to fuck your pretty pussy now while you make Oscar feel good okay?”

Oscar moved to the head of the bed, leaning against the back, all bared out for you. Moving closer to him, you looked to him for one last confirmation, and he nodded, pushing you to drag your tongue from his base all the way to his tip. He hissed at the contact, leaning his head back as he tried to control his breathing. You toyed with him, slowly moving your tongue around but not putting him in your mouth completely. You were about to start another cycle of it when you felt a hand yank your head back with your hair, Joe’s mouth next to your ear.

“Stop being a brat,” he growled and your core throbbed at his dominance. He let go of you, and you enveloped Oscar’s head with your lips, making him groan out. Hollowing your cheeks, you started to bob up and down, making sure to move your tongue around his cock. His hand found the back of your head as he bucked his hips into your mouth, his breathing growing heavy.

You were so caught up in Oscar that you temporarily forgot about Joe, until you felt him push entirely into you. You cried out around Oscar, causing him let out a loud groan.

“That’s it baby,” Joe praised breathlessly as he quickened his pace. “Taking us both so well.”

Your body was on fire as Joe pounded into you from behind, his strong hands gripping your hips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on pleasuring Oscar. But you were determined to make them both feel good.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking Oscar deeper into your mouth as you matched Joe's rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Joe groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So tight and wet for us."

Oscar's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he thrust shallowly into your mouth. "Fuck, y/n," Oscar groaned, his accent thick with desire. "Your mouth feels so good."

The dual sensations of being filled from both ends was overwhelming. You could feel yourself rapidly approaching another orgasm, and when Joe brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing rapid circles, you toppled over the edge. Your cries sent Oscar over the edge, and you swallowed the cum he spurt down your throat right as you clenched around Joe, causing him to spill into you.

Slumping down, you winced as Joe pulled out of you, and Oscar pulled you up into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you as you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” He asked softly and you gave him a weak smile.

“Never better.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay baby?” Joe said sweetly, kneeling next to you. Nodding, you let him scoop you into his arms and take you into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, and Oscar followed you in. The shower barely fit the three of you, but you definitely weren’t complaining, just happy to be sandwiched between two of the hottest men you knew.

“Will you both stay?” You asked hopefully, and neither of them said anything for a minute, eyeing each other warily. “Please?”

Joe broke first, eyes softening as he looked down at you. “Of course baby.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, stepping out to get a towel for you.

Once you were wrapped up you looked between the two men smirking. “I think… that orange is my favorite color.”

[annwrites]

⸻ happy new year. ⸻

· pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader · type: one-shot (collection) · summary: you & nate run into each other on new year's eve & decide to spend it together. · word count: 2,452

“You alright?”

When you turn your head upwards, you're met by the sight of Nate Jacobs staring down at you with a raised brow.

You shake your head and lick powdered sugar from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I was just…” You sigh. “I was heading to Virgil’s New Year’s party with a friend, but they were already drinking when they picked me up. I demanded they let me out when they swerved into another lane. So, now I’m sitting in a convenience store parking lot eating donuts.”

You glance down to your phone. 

“I should probably order an Uber,” you mutter while unlocking the device.

He jerks his head toward his truck. “I’m headed that way if you want me to give you a ride.”

Your eyes flit to the case of Budweiser he holds in his hand, then to his face with a raised brow.

He grins. “I haven’t drank yet tonight. I was planning to save these for when I got to the party. I promise that I’m sober.”

You consider for a moment, then decide there’s no reason you can’t still enjoy the rest of the evening. You’ll go, then order an Uber to take you home once you’re ready to finally head that way.

Finally, you nod with a small smile. “Sure.”

He offers you an outstretched hand.

You rest your arms on the passenger-side windowsill and enjoy the feel of warm night air washing over you. 

“How come we’ve never hung out before?”

You turn back to Nate with a questioning look.

His lip twitches. “What?”

“Are you actually asking that?” You ask, leaning back.

He glances back to the road. “I think it’s a reasonable question. We’ve known each other for years. Since kindergarten. So that’s, what, since we were each five-years-old? Yet we barely know one another.”

You shrug slightly and take a sip from the bottle of water you purchased back at the store. “I guess it can seem strange: knowing someone nearly all your life, but not really knowing them. But it happens. People growing up together, but not inherently being friends, I mean.”

He shrugs. “No reason we can’t get to know each other now.”

You shift in your seat. “What? Like, tonight?”

He stares ahead at the road for a moment. “You want to blow this party off and go somewhere else instead?”

He glances to you then.

“Like where?” You ask with furrowed brows. 

He turns on his blinker. “You’ll see.”

You and Nate are seated in the bed of his pickup—which is parked near the high school's football field—with a case of beer resting between you.

Nate is on his second bottle, while you’re still nursing your first.

“So, tell me something about yourself,” he says, resting his head back against the rear window.

“Like what?” You ask while tracing the pad of your thumb around the rim of the bottle.

“Anything.”

You think for a moment. “This is the first time I’ve ever drank.”

He takes another sip of his beer. “How is it?”

You wrinkle your nose slightly and shrug. “It’s not my favorite.”

He chuckles. “I’m going out on a limb here and assuming a wine cooler or hard seltzer would’ve been more your speed.”

He rolls his head in your direction. “But I guess there's no real way to know.”

You take another drink.

“What about you?” You ask.

He raises a brow. “Hm?”

“Now is the part where you tell me something about you in return.”

He grows quiet for awhile. “Honestly, I was looking for an excuse not to go to the party tonight, simply because I didn’t want to see Maddy.”

You’re not sure that that counts as ‘something about him’, but you suppose that it’s technically something, nevertheless. 

“Why? Are the two of you having problems?”

He smirks. “When aren’t we?”

You choose not to reply to that.

In truth, you’ve noticed on more than one occasion the two of them arguing in the halls at school, or in the parking lot. Or one, if not both of them, seemingly in a mood in class. 

It’s simply none of your concern, and you have little interest in making it as much. 

“You don’t date, though, do you?” He asks, finishing off his second bottle. 

You begin picking at the label that’s wrapped around your own. “Not really, no.”

He leans in slightly toward you. “Can I ask why?” 

You settle back against the corner of the truck bed. “I mean no offense by this, but it seems to me that most boys our age are only interested in one thing. Then again, people say that doesn’t change for men, even as they get older. So, I guess no matter what I do, I lose.”

He grabs another bottle. “Eh, things aren’t always the greatest on our side, either. Plenty of girls are just sluts, or only get with you merely for attention, or to have you blow your money on them.”

You’re quiet for a moment, while you listen to the chirping crickets which surround you. “Is that what happened with you and her?”

He nods gently. “To an extent, yeah.”

You tilt your head back and stare up at the dark night sky and all the twinkling stars above you. 

Meanwhile, Nate stares at you in return.

“So, in other words, you’re not looking for some easy hookup, or one-night stand,” he replies.

You shake your head.

“I think that’s a rarity nowadays: to come across somebody who’s interested in something more—in a relationship with actual substance, instead of something superficial, I mean. With Maddy, everything was like some sick game to keep the both of us always on-edge.”

You turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

He twists off the cap of another bottle between his teeth, then spits it across the bed of the truck. “Me too.”

“I feel like I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be.”

Currently, the two of you are lying down in the middle of the high school’s football field...and it’s actually rather comfortable. The grass is freshly mowed, and feels quite soft beneath you.

Nate grins and rolls his head to the side to look at you. “I can’t believe you’ve never come to one of our games before.”

You shrug and blink up at the starry night sky. “Not really my thing. I’m not exactly the ‘sporty’ type.”

He turns onto his side and he rests his head in his hand while he gazes at you. “So, what is your thing, then?”

You smile slightly, and he knows he’s finally found a way in, in terms of getting you to finally open up a little.

“You really want to know?” You ask while meeting his eyes.

He nods.

You turn onto your side excitedly. “Photography.”

He gives you an impressed look at discovering this hidden facet of your personality. “What kind? Portraits?”

You snort, as if it should be obvious that that’s not the correct answer. “No. I have no interest in capturing people, or in staring at them through a lens while they put on a mask, as if they don’t do it every other moment of their life, too.”

“Wildlife?”

You shake your head. “I think I could get into bird watching, maybe, but I feel like memorizing all their different colors and facets and chirps would be a lot of work.”

You turn back to staring up at stars. “Landscapes. Nature. Abandoned places that tell a story all on their own, even if I’ll never know what it truly is.”

A soft smile spreads across his lips at the way you talk about it. “Is that something you intend to go to college for?”

You frown slightly and shrug. “Probably not. College is expensive, and I don’t know that it’s something my family can afford. Which is fine with me. I mean, there are certain things that I don’t feel a degree is necessary for, in that you can make it without one. Like writing. Anyone can tell a story on page. And all one needs to be a photographer is a camera. Maybe a nice flash and a cheap photoshop program wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Do you want to make a career out of it, then?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “It’s a nice thought, but I think it’ll only ever remain a hobby for me. Portraiture is where the money is. Photographing the things I do… I’d only ever make real money out of it if a magazine or online site that publishes articles hired me on, and even if I got lucky and got in somewhere like that, I doubt there’d be much money to be had. They probably pay you some one-time flat-rate fee without royalties, even if the site gets a lot of traffic and ads.”

He reaches over and brushes a stray hair from your face. “Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about it.”

You glance to him. “Some, I guess. I just like the way it makes me feel when I go out exploring and I come across something worth capturing. Or when I look back through my work and make up stories in my head about it.”

“Can I see some of them?”

You pretend to grimace and he smirks. 

“What? That bad?”

You roll your eyes, then pull your phone from your pocket. 

You open the cloud drive you have all your photos stored in and take a few minutes to find one of your favorites.

Finally, you hand the device to him.

He takes it from you—his fingers brush against your own as he does so—and he studies the picture, for a long while.

You begin to grow a bit nervous that maybe he thinks it's dumb.

Not that it makes much difference to you if he does.

Your hobby is for your enjoyment. Others' opinions on it are of no consequence to you.

“This is really good. I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think a professional took it.”

You beam with pride then and he matches your smile.

He hands you your phone back then.

“So, you’re a photographer.”

You shrug. “It always makes me feel so pretentious when people say that.”

“Why?”

You sigh. “I guess because of the fact my work isn’t published anywhere.”

He sits up slightly. “So? I mean, would you tell someone who spends all their spare-time painting that they’re not a painter, just because they don’t have any of their artwork hanging up in a museum somewhere?”

You smile softly. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“It’d be like saying I’m not a real athlete because I only play for my high school’s football team and not the NFL. Do you think that?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

He smiles. "There you have it, then."

“So, it’s five minutes ‘til.”

You raise a brow in interest. “Until what?”

“Midnight,” he replies with a grin. 

“Happy New Year,” you say quietly.

He glances away, then back to you. “I, uh, I don’t mean for this to be interpreted as some sort of come-on or anything, but… I’d really like to kiss you at midnight.”

Your eyes flit between his nervously. “I don’t know…”

“Just a kiss between friends. I mean, complete fucking strangers kiss on this day every year, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Your brows knit together. “If I don’t? Listen, Nate, tonight has been nice. And I’ve really enjoyed—”

He cuts you off with a knowing smile. “I’m not asking you to go steady, sweetheart, I’m just offering you a kiss. We’re the only ones here. Nobody else has to know.”

He checks his phone again. “Two minutes.”

You chew your lip nervously. “So, if I say yes, do I need to worry about Maddy trying to assault me in the middle of the quad?”

He laughs lightly at that. “She’ll never know, swear to God. It’s not like we’re together right now anyway, and I don’t know that we ever will be again. I’m just trying not to think too much about her tonight.”

You rest your hands on your stomach and relent. “Okay, but just one kiss. Like a peck on the lips. Nothing more.”

He doesn’t speak his reply. Instead, he leans over you and lies his body atop your own.

Your heart skips in your chest at the feel of his heavy weight settled across your body. 

This is quickly turning into the strangest night ever. For you, at least.

He smooths hair away from your face, glances to his phone, then smiles. “Midnight.”

He leans down and presses his lips to your own.

And he gives you the very opposite of a peck. Instead, he tangles his fingers in your hair and spreads your lips open with his own before slipping his warm tongue gently inside your mouth and flicking the speared tip against yours.

Your body stiffens slightly, so he slides his free hand up your thigh before settling it against your hip, and he rubs soothing circles against it with the pad of his thumb.

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before kissing you passionately once again.

It’s when you feel something hard pressing against your stomach that you break off the kiss and turn slightly away while laughing nervously.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Nate would never admit to it, but for the days that follow, New Year's Eve is nearly all he's able to think about.

Spending time with you had been nice. Different, even. Well...different to what time spent with Maddy had been like, at least.

It'd been calm, with simple, truthful conversation shared between the two of you. Honesty had seemed to flow from your tongue. And honesty is a rarity in his life.

It doesn't take long for him to come to the realization that he has a crush. Even if the term seems juvenile, it's what it is. A crush.

You're beautiful, kind, easy-going, sweet, and passionate about your adorable hobby. So, who can blame him for being unable to get you off of his mind?

He begins to wonder, before long, how different his life would be at current had he gotten with you sophomore year instead of Maddy.

But, if nothing else, he's finally free of her. To an extent...

She still has that damn disc, but he knows he'll figure out how to get it back eventually. In the meantime, he intends to keep getting to know you... As deeply as possible.

[puppypeter]

Watching the new season of queer eye and of course had to think about the Fab 5 being called on someone in the Ted Lasso universe

imagine post-s.3, roy has just become manager but jamie is not there for the season because he has suddenly taken off to go join some other big team in spain

roy has been a big grumpy mopey sad dog, torturing the team with super intense workouts, growing out his hair/beard back to retirement-roy levels, doesn't really go out anymore so someone decides to call the fab 5 on him (keeley/rebecca/the team/his sister)

there's so many things they'd do like, first, obviously, absolutely freak out about how attractive he is and that he looks like a grumpy hairy soft teddy bear and they'd make him blush like hell

then there would be all the interactions they have with the people around him, like finding out how much he matters to the team and the club and his niece, and yet he doesn't seem to fully understand this like in the things he says it's all very much like about how he used to be something / this idea of youth and his glory days vs what he is now.

karamo would absolutely love the concept of the diamond dogs and man in sport trying to find a way to be open and vulnerable with each other

I also love the idea of things not lining up with who they assume him to be, like when they find out about the yoga mums and the drag queens and also all the love he'll get around his sexuality once it's kinda revealed he might have a thing for a boy... like he's always known and not cared about it, but the football world has not let him feel like he can express himself on it as much as well as when it comes to masculinity and his preconceived ideas because maybe he does want to wear something different but what if people think things because of it...

so for the angst - there would be a lot of roy being stuck in the past, both his fame, his grandad and jamie. They would go over to his house and he'd already be very uncomfortable having so many people around

jeremiah would frown at seeing the dusty room with the trophies and the frames on the floor turned towards the wall, he would tear up at the pictures of baby roy with his grandad but lack of pictures with his parents

tan would be staring at a mostly black wardrobe (yet pleasantly surprised at this "supposedly straight" man knowing about dark heather charcoal and different variations of black) and curious about the funky socks. He also comes across a baby blue hoodie (or a ugly colourful pattern t-shirt in the wrong size) that roy growls at the mention of getting rid of it... which makes him wonder if it really belongs to roy....

jvn would walk him to the bathroom to find out about his routine, eyebrows raised when roy has a few really nice products that are suitable for his skin type and all and he wonders about roy's pout when he asks about all these lovely products on his sink and roy says they're not his and walks out the door :(

antoni would find some old notebook of recipes of roy's grandad and they would probably cry in the kitchen to each other about cold-hearted parents

anyway they all talk to the diamond dogs, keeley, rebecca, ruth and phoebe and the team to understand more about roy and what happened, and it all comes back to jamie who they clock to be the "ghost" around roy's house (the hoodie, the beauty products, the lack of interest in cooking...) but nobody seems to know what happened, besides them all saying jamie departure was very sudden

(would be so fucking funny if phoebe was the one snitching)

so they fly over to spain to talk to jamie and it comes out that when they went to the bar (the "bar scene") jamie thought roy had asked him on a date and it absolutely broke his heart when he brought keeley up and he decided he couldn't handle spending so much time with roy anymore, 4am workouts, movie night half cuddled on the couch etc when it didn't mean the same to roy as it did to him. Bonus points if the fab 5 go to jamie's apartment and see that he's not unpacked anything because it doesn't feel like home :( They are also all in love with him cause he's such a sweetheart and he looks cute when he pouts and tears up

It ends with jamie flying over and there's lots of tension and roy admitting he fucked it up and let his fear get in the way because of having such a big "feeling" for jamie and then they kiss and get together and the post-show bit the fab 5 watch from the couch is just a royjamie date

(also something something about roy being surrounded by queer man closer to his age!!!! who might be able to understand his experience a bit more than these gen z folks)

[sunshine-theseus]

Angel In Disguise | Esme Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: life’s hard when all your students prefer your footballer partner over you.

Warnings: fluff, children? idk how the English school timeline works and the Australian one doesn’t match up with the story so I’m just saying school starts in like September and ends in late May??

Request for: @wlwskyy i hope this is good! it's probably not as good as I hoped but i'm still pretty happy with it

Being a primary school teacher was hard. Trying to help students who struggle with the content while also helping others progress. Being strict while also wanting to be fun. My biggest struggle though, was a very me specific one.

Esme Morgan loves to visit me or help me out at school from time to time, and just like everyone else she meets, the kids fall in love with her. From the first time they meet her, they’re begging me to bring her back.

“Ms L/n it’s so cool you’re dating a footballer! Can you bring her back tomorrow? And the day after that and the day after that one until forever?” and once they realise that she actually has her own job to do, they beg I bring her in at least once a term.

It was my first year teaching after university, the first time she’d come to work, and it had been a complete surprise.

After she broke her leg in 2021, Esme struggled to fill her time. She’d made about 27 bracelets in the first 3 days, then tried to bake a little, although it went rather poorly. She then watched all the original Disney movies in release order. I think she got to Mulan II before she decided enough was enough.

I was in the middle of teaching the times tables when there was a light knock on the door. I could see her cheeky smile through the small pane of glass and rushed to open it for her. Esme stumbles through the door, her moon boot and crutches making it difficult for her to fit through the rather narrow frame.

She pecks me on the lips and the room erupts in childish giggles. Romantic affection was something so foreign to 8 and 9 year olds.

“Es… what are you doing here?” I whisper as I pull a chair for her sit on.

“I got bored, and I miss yoouu.” She smiles up at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“Oh! And I brought gifts for the kiddos!” she holds out a paper bag and I peak inside.

My heart melts at the pile of hand-crafted bracelets, ranging in colour and design, that fill a significant proportion of the bag.

She spent the rest of the day surrounded by my class. Eventually I had to stop teaching because they were so in love with this angelic limping figure who brough them friendship bracelets. I don’t think Esme prepared for them all to assume she was every single one of their best friends.

~~~~~

It was nearly Christmas break when she first met my class for this year, and everyone knew who she was. For the first time, I didn’t have to introduce her or tell them what she does for them to get hyped.

“I WATCHED YOU IN THAT FOOTBALL THING” and other similar phrases are shouted many times when she enters the room.

When I looked at her it was hard not to smile. She was playing and talking with kids and giving them all little bracelets, just like she does every year.

As she was crouched in front of a small group who were excitedly asking her questions, Marley, a rather shy and quiet girl, walked up to Esme and lightly tapped her shoulder. She fiddles with her fingers and avoids looking at anyone as she waits.

“Excuse me Mrs Esme?” Esme is already smiling when she turns to look at Marley.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Um you’re my favourite player of all time. I watch all your games and wanna grow up and play just like you.” And Esme’s smile grew bigger, something I wasn’t sure was possible.

“That’s so cool! Can I give you a hug?” Marley nods and giggles into the embrace, and then they begin to talk about Marley’s interest in football and Esme’s work.

I’d been struggling to get her to talk for 2 months, and Es came in and got her to talk within minutes, but I can’t stop staring lovingly at the angel of a woman in front of me. There was a part of myself I saw in Marley. I’d struggled to be very open for a long time until I met Esme. She just had this gentle, caring nature that was hard to ignore.

-

Marley misses her the most between visits. They’d made a secret handshake and love to chat and giggle on the oval at lunch, kicking the ball around.

In between visits Esme and Marley both interchangeably would give me something to give the other; a bracelet or a packet of lollies or a flower they found randomly. It was so hard for me to not burst from how cute their friendship was.

It had changed Es as well. Obviously, she has always been welcoming and warm-hearted but she’d become more confident about her play and sometimes I would catch her bragging to her teammates.

“I’m Marley’s favourite player!” it took them a while to realise who Marley was, but they found it adorable.

-

We’re in our last week for the school year, just in time for Esme to make one more surprise appearance before she has leave for camp for the France Olympics. I’d told the kids she wasn’t sure if she would have time to make it between finishing up the season and preparing for the Olympics, but that didn’t stop them from begging me to bring her in.

It’s the last day, everyone already buzzing for their long holiday, and admittedly from the lollies I gave them. I always try to make the last day super fun, activities and music and a surprise guest.

By midday I’d already had to apologise that Esme couldn’t make it. 17 times and counting.

And by 1, there was a knock on the door. A knock the kids were all too familiar with, and Esme rushes into the room, kids swarming her from all angles.

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey pretty lady” she turns to me and kisses me quickly. Gags and loud ‘ewww!’s echo out.

Marley waits patiently with a small bag in her hand, still considerably shy. Esme wastes no time in getting to the young girl, with a similar bag in hand.

“Hey Mar! I got you a little something.” Esme hands the bag over, and everyone watches carefully as she pulls out whatever lays inside.

I see the familiar light blue peak out, and recognise the jersey design I sport most weekends. The present is clear when Marley starts jumping up and down in excitement.

“It’s one of my spares so don’t tell Gareth, ok? I got all the girls to sign it.” Marley is wrapped around Esme before she can finish the sentence.

“Thank you!” she scrambles to put her bag in Esme’s hands before tugging the shirt over her head.

I nearly scream when I see Esme pull out a black and purple jersey, colours I know from all the pictures Marley shows me of her games, usually with a trophy in her hands. Her last name and the number 14 adorn the back with a tiny ‘Marley’ in black sharpie on the ‘1’.

“Oh my god Marley this is so cool! I’m going to keep this forever. In a few years time I’m going to see you playing for England and know I got the first ever Marley jersey and signature. And of course you’ll play for Manchester City yeah?” the little girl eagerly nods her head.

-

The day goes on and the kids go home for the last time. Esme leaves after an hour of helping me pack up the classroom, to start dinner and I don’t finish until 5:30.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m exhausted, but satisfied with my work for the year.

I leave most of my gear in the car to unpack another day and walk to the door. I struggle to open it for a moment but when I do, I’m hit by the smell of my favourite meal cooking and the sound of Esme singing, albeit not well.

I drag my feet into the kitchen and wrap my arms around my wife, kissing her back as I just rest against her.

“Hello my love.”

“Hey sunshine.” I pause for a moment.

“You’re so good with kids.” She hums as she turns the stove off.

“And you helped Marley so much.”

“She’s a good kid, it’s hard not to like her.” I pull away and reach up to kiss her on the cheek before looking for the small gift bag.

“What are you doing?” Esme questions as she begins to plate to the food

“Well we have to measure Marley’s shirt for a frame so we can hang it up don’t we? I want to be able to boast to the world in like 8 years time about how I taught her and how we have her first ever signature.” I poke her in the side as I grab my plate.

“Well how about we do that tomorrow? I just want to cuddle with you tonight before we have to pack and get ready for camp.” I let out a loud groan.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to France, and we’ll barely be able to do any of that gross romantic shit together.” Esme smiles down at me, regret floating behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Noo I’m so excited I just think they’re cruel for making players do their job or whatever.” I jokingly roll my eyes before I lean back into her on the couch, both our plates sat in our laps.

“I promise to take you to that restaurant on the top of the Eiffel Tower before we leave.” She kisses my forehead.

~~~~~

“This is light work for the defender, tapping the ball passed Courtney Nevin and chipping it passed the Australian goalkeeper! IT’S A GOAL FOR ENGLAND AND THEY FIND AN EQUALISER IN THE OLYMPIC FINALS!”

I cheer at the goal with the rest of the stadium, hugging the small girl next to me as she bounces in excitement.

“Did you see that mumma? She scored! Mar Mar scored!” Reese shouts over everyone else.

“I did! It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

When the game ends, I pick Reese up and we rush down to the pitch with the other family members, celebrating as we make our way. It takes us a few minutes to spot the players we’re looking for but when Reese points them out, I put her down and she runs toward them without a single thought.

“Congratulations!” I pull Esme into a kiss before turning to Marley. The 16-year-old smiled brightly at me before hugging me tightly.

“Your goal was fucking phenomenal Marley! They should make you a striker.”

“But then she wouldn’t be just like her favourite player” Esme buts in, our daughter falling asleep on her hip. We all laugh and continue to talk with the other girls and celebrate until we decide to head back to the hotel to put Reese to bed.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come you know?” I pull Marley into my side as we wait for the elevator.

“From ‘shy little 8 year old who refused to talk to her teacher’ to ‘number 14; defender and debut scorer for her country at the 2032 Olympics at 16 years old’.”

“And one of the youngest and best signings for Man City!” Esme chimes in

“Thank you for always believing in me.”

After we say goodnight to Marley and make sure Reese is definitely asleep, I climb into bed with Esme.

“You’re so amazing.” I stare at her. Sometimes I don’t understand how I was blessed with such a kind-hearted, gentle woman.

“I try.” We break out in giggles and I slap her lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” we don’t say anything else.

She kisses me hard before I rest my head on her chest, her arm wrapping around me as we fall asleep. She’s my angel in disguise.

[taylorrepdetective]

Why do you think Taylor keeps doing NYC pap walks both with and without Travis? I don’t understand why she has the paparazzi take her pic going to dinner like once a week

My ongoing theory is that she is slow-walking the travlor relationship as much as she thinks she can. While the tabloids and certain fans salivate over how she lives in suburban KC (a place the average American can relate to) and they are basically already married and she makes Buffalo chicken dip for all the husbands on Saturdays while they watch college football, and is about to pop out 3 kids before her ovaries dry up (gross but that’s how a large section of her customers view things), she can instead show that it’s not quite happening yet, so stay tuned. When I say “stay tuned” what I mean is she wants everyone to keep being interested and paying attention, awaiting this next chapter of her life, and her achieving every woman’s ultimate dream of settling down becoming a wife and mother.

But if she just quietly settles in KC (or in reality, appears to settle there,) then what’s there for people to look at? A pap can’t make a living in KC showing up as she goes out to dinner with the same boring people to Outback Steakhouse every Tuesday. The appeal will dry up very quickly. So this way she keeps up the glamorous life of going out in NY where the best paps in the world are a a phone call away. This way, when the travlor album comes out and all these average Americans who think it’s so great that she is living a life similar to them, they will all buy it, as well as all the long-time fans who buy everything she puts out no matter what. But assuming that album isn’t yet ready, and that album is not about settling down and getting married, and is instead about falling in love with someone who lets her bejeweled (or however she frames it) then that happy ending can’t happen too soon. So this is one way of slowing things down and keeping enough people in a reasonable state of mind still waiting for them to move to the next step, or at least show the damn ring they already believe exists. Ring watch is a big deal for those who care. Keeps the anticipation up and keeps it rolling over a long period of time.

It isn’t that different from what she did with Joe. Obviously she’s selling a different story now, she’s much more famous now, and she is a different place in her life now. But the game is similar. While she immediately moved to London and started writing you and me forevermore marriage vows type love songs, the reality of the situation was that they basically stayed frozen in this perpetual “they are about to get engaged” stage for years and years. She never even bought a house in London until after they broke up. For someone who has been known to buy a house at the drop of a hat, it was very off-brand. And therefore something one should think about with a “why?” She then turned around and used the lack of engagement/commitment for the breakup narrative. So as usual she gets 2 birds out of it.

How it will all play out in the end, I don’t know. But I believe this slow-walking to keep anticipation up without actually having to get engaged is how she rolls. I call it the lavender haze.

[tartts-blog]

My Reputation's Never Been Worse, But You Can Buy Me A Drink (Part One)

Roy Kent x Fem!Singer!Reader

Taylor Swift Reputation Inspired Series- Requested by @akornsworld

series summary: roy and the reader go from strangers, to lovers, to so much more. inspired by taylor swift-reputation.

part summary: roy and the reader meet at a bar and form a connection

content warning: language, angst if you squint, mentions of an abusive relationship

a/n: this series will likely be 8 parts. feel free to comment or message me any other requests! i write for roy, jamie, and royxjamie. i'll also consider writing for keeley depending on the request.

masterlist

You promptly decided 5 minutes after getting to the bar that deciding to go out for a drink after already having a throbbing headache was a mistake. All you wanted was a break. A break from the media, a break from being constantly reminded of your shitty ex, just a fucking break in general. Your career was overwhelming you, and you’ve had enough. After your extremely public break-up with your ex boyfriend, the media has been harassing you consistently. Even though there was video and photograph proof that he had abused you, majority of society still took his side. Your music sales plummeted, and for the first time in your career your most recent album didn’t make the top 100 list. Everything was just shit. Therefore, showing up at Bones and Honey on a random day of the week was quickly become a routine for you.

Everyone there tended to mind their own business, and leave you alone to wallow in your thoughts. At least, that was until the entirety of the Richmond football club showed up. To be honest, you don’t really follow football, but you recognized most of the players. Your dad loves football, AFC Richmond specifically, so you grew up watching a shit ton of games (even though you never quite understood the appeal). Performing arts was always more interesting to you. So when Roy Kent came to you at the bar, you were probably more open with him than you should’ve been. The amount of drinks you’d already consumed also probably played a part in that. He walked up to the bar next to you, ordered a pint, then turned to look at you.

“Oi, you’re Y/N Y/LN right?”

“Yeah, and if I’m not mistaken you’re the infamous Roy Kent?” He nodded his head up, seemingly surprised that you knew who he was. “What, didn’t expect a singer to follow football?” He looked a little apologetic at that.

“No, sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so fucking blunt to be honest.” You laughed.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Anyway, I’m assuming you’re here as a celebration or something. Why are you over here with me and not your team? I’m not exactly a prize.” The bartender brought over Roy’s beer and he took a swig of it.

“I’m with those pricks everyday, and you looked upset. As weird as it sounds I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” That made you uneasy.

“Look, I’m not in the mood for a one stand with a footballer, or whatever else you want from me. I just came here to get my mind off my fucking job and get plastered for the night.”

“Oi, that’s not what I’m fucking here for, if it was I would’ve just fucking said that. I honestly just wanted a minute away from those little pricks,” he pointed over to the rest of the Richmond team on the other side of the club, “and like I said I really did just want to make sure you’re alright. You looked all in your head and shit.” He took another chug of his beer, and you felt your guard start to slip. You took that opportunity to look him over, and that’s when it dawned on you just how attractive he really was. He was fucking fit.

“Alright then, and yeah I’m fine.” You promptly downed a shot of tequila you had in front of you, next to your martini. You really were planning on getting trashed that night. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you pretended not to notice. You stared up at him, suddenly realizing how he was just awkwardly standing next to you instead of actually sitting down at the bar. “Look, if you’re really going to bother yourself with talking to me could you at least sit down and quit standing there like a creep. And buy me a drink.” He let out a chuckle at that, sat down, and ordered you a martini. You smiled softly at him, suddenly a little embarrassed.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Roy was actually quit enjoyable to talk to, but you know that after that night your little section of the world just to the two of you would end. You would have to go back to your shit career and personal life, and he would go back to coaching a premier league football club and everyone loving him. You tried not to think about that while you were with him though. You found yourself laughing more than you had in months.

You vaguely remember making fun of Roy’s deep voice and the way he talked after both had consumed several more drinks. You couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol or not, but you were pretty sure he knew that you meant it as a compliment. As the night came to a close, he walked you out to your cab, and you both said your goodbyes. You realized in the cab on the way to your house that you couldn’t stop smiling. Shit. It would be a fucking disaster if the media got wind of the fact you and a football manager, of all people, spent a night at Bones and Honey together. But who could blame you? It was Roy fucking Kent. And you could already tell he was going to make you crazy.

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[fauxnotice]

ALIEN SKINCARE. v! blue lock/male! reader. originally posted on quotev. masterlist.

CHAPTER IV. JUST KICK THE DAMN BALL, PERCHANCE.

Just as you’re about to wonder if you’re ever going to actually play football in this place, since it’s been around three days of doing nothing but various physical tests, Ego is helpful enough to announce that the results of those have been finalized. Thus, your rankings have changed as well. By your reasoning, if each team got one member kicked off during the first test, that would mean that you should bump up by quite a few rankings.

Your hypothesis is proven correct, as the number on your shirt rises by twenty five places. 

His goal point system is interesting as well. You decide to set getting a proper bed as your first objective, as those shitty futons are disastrous for your back. And an unhealthy back means an underwhelming football performance, and you can’t have that. That, additionally to this peculiar uneasiness that’s been plaguing you ever since you arrived, was bound to only bring you down.

But that was a worry for later.

You had already assumed that Blue Lock was going to be an intense environment, and Ego proved you right. The rules of the so-called First Selection were rather cutthroat, intending to further aid in sowing the seeds of desperation within participants as it went on. Truly an eat-or-be-eaten situation. 

You can’t say that you’re against it. 

Then, the weird man proceeds to drop the biggest bomb of all -it being that your first match as Team V would be held in less than two hours. 

The screen returns into its initial pitch black state, and the entire room is thrown into disarray.

Well. A good part of the room. Some of you are much less affected by the sudden revelation than the rest. For your part, you’re sitting down on your futon, attempting (and failing) to find the most comfortable position. You really need that deluxe bed, huh.

Detachedly, your sight lands upon the “analyst”. Of course, he doesn’t seem worried at all, though from what you’ve seen, Karasu isn’t the type to show it visibly, even if he was perturbed by something. You can easily tell that he’s thinking of something, grinding of gears almost audible in the realm of reality. How cool, you think humorously, it’s our “weakest” that’s trying to be rational about this.

The majority of your team is pacing around restlessly by now, complaining in vain about not knowing how to build a team of all forwards. Someone even suggests playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who will be playing each position, which sounds like such a deliberate attempt at reducing your chances of winning it almost makes you laugh out loud. 

Sone, the guy signed into your memory due to his less-than-impressive performance during the initial exam, looks incredibly tense. Like, tense enough that you think if you poked him on the shoulder right now, he’d have a heart attack and die. His polar opposite is found in Otoya, who is lying on his back, entirely unbothered as he twists his signature green strand of hair between his fingers. His nonchalance is truly extraordinary.

At some point, somebody walks up to you and asks for your opinion as the “strongest” (as if some stupid number actually meant anything). In all honesty, you didn’t spare a single thought on how to proceed, as you had spent the past few minutes lamenting your shitty living conditions, so you’re kinda stuck on what to say. Not for long however, as you are nothing if not an improviser, and also a person who uses others to save your own skin when the time calls for it. Thus, the most logical decision is to throw someone under the bus. And there is only one candidate for it. 

“I think Karasu-kun already has an idea.” You smile. “So let’s hear what he has to say first.” 

All inhabitants of Room V collectively turn to look at the mentioned boy. He sends you a look that’s too quick for you to interpret. Even you find yourself rather curious, especially with how relaxed Karasu seemed to be, almost as if he already had the entire game in the bag.

“Puttin’ the spotlight on me like that … are ya tryin’ to embarrass me?” Karasu smirks, clearly not even close to being embarrassed. You simply continue smiling. 

“No, not at all. I’m just saying that I think you’re the best person for the job.”

“And what made ya think that? Not that I mind the compliment.”

Unwilling to unravel the methods of your reasoning, you only shrug lightly. “I’m simply a very intuitive person.”

“Should ya really be relyin’ on intuition right now? Who knows, maybe I’m the biggest buffoon in the room.”

Your smile widens. “Then I’ll put my trust in the buffoon.” 

Karasu actually does laugh at this. The others, however, are far from laughing, and are feeling like this supposed strategy meeting is getting derailed into a session of bickering between you two. Which is happening at the most inopportune time possible. And yet, no one seems to want to speak up, as if what you and Karasu are discussing is of some great importance. Even Otoya stood up to observe the event.

Karasu’s eyes meet your form with an intensity that would unsettle most people. But you-you’ve felt worse. After seemingly debating something with himself, he finally speaks up again. “Well, let’s see if yer intuition is worth anythin’, or if yer a naive dumbass.” And he ends it at that. 

There’s a miniscule twitch in your brow. But whatever. If the scales don’t tip in your favor, you’ll force them to. “The stage is yours, Karasu-kun.”

Karasu makes a sarcastic bowing motion. “Many thanks, Mr. Angel.”

This bullshit again? You swear, that weirdo has done irreparable damage to your image. You can only hope that your stupid nickname won’t spread amongst people, because you don’t know how much cheesiness your psyche can take before you do something unpresentable. 

But you’ll brush that off for now, as it seems like Karasu is about to finally say something worthwhile. 

“The other team’s probably jus’ as unprepared as we are.” He begins, even and collected in his delivery of what could possibly make or break your future career. “Which means they’ll have buncha holes in their plays-if we poke at those weaknesses enough, they’ll topple right over.”

Everyone seems to find this reasonable enough. You do think it’s a sound start to a strategy. 

“But that’s not enough, right?” You ask, tone as serene as always, but you’re guessing that Karasu can notice the almost challenging suggestion behind it. “We can’t just bet on our opponent’s incompetency to win.”

Karasu snorts in turn. “Duh, obviously. I was gettin’ to that.” And he’s grinning. What a cheeky bastard. “Even if they manage to make a workin’ team, there’s always those who’re laggin’ behind. The mediocre ones.” 

The way he accentuates mediocre is no different than the rest of his sentence, but you feel a particular importance put into it. Mediocrity … Those who continue to be plagued by it won’t make it far into Blue Lock. 

You’re already forming some kind of picture of who Karasu is as a player. Once more, you feel anticipation blossom within your chest like a late flower, although you squash it before it takes full form. Such clear-cut strategic playing … is it truly what you’re looking for? 

“Uh … that’s nice and all,” some brunette with an unfortunate haircut cuts in. “But how are we supposed to decide who’ll play which position? We’re all forwards!” 

As patient as you strive to be, it doesn’t stop you from thinking that some people need to use their ears (and brains) more than their mouths. Could he not wait, for like, a minute at best? Karasu obviously got the planning covered, and he wasn’t stupid enough to skip over the critical part of the entire process. But whatever, it is what it is. You make no move to acknowledge his rather useless addition to the conversation. 

Karasu graces the questionably-intelligent specimen with a proper response, at least. “Since most don’t have experince when it comes to playin’ different positions, each one of us should think of somethin’ they’re good at that they can use in the match.”

“So something that’s our “weapon”?” Otoya pipes in. You’re surprised that he was even listening at all.

Karasu nods. “Sure, let’s call it that. Everyone, think of yer weapon.”

Wow, what assertiveness. Seems like he fell into the leadership role with no problem. It appears that the rest of your teammates had the same thought, since they all turned to think about their new “assignment”.

That includes you too, as you’re, shamefully enough, stuck with the dilemma of what exactly you excel at enough for you to share. The abrupt feeling of … you’re not sure what, as it twists your insides with something akin to shame, uncertainity, dissatisfaction, irritation, and a plethora of other unpleasant things. But you manage to supress it all, or rather tuck away for later. Personal feelings of weakness mean jack shit on the field. If you bring them in, be ready to leave with nothing but a scorching loss on your hands. 

Of course you have useful skills. You’re you.

So you manage to land on something you’d describe as a weapon. 

When it’s your turn to share, you put on your best face as you speak. “Other than my flexibility and balance, I’d say my playmaking is pretty good.”

Karasu then proceeds to stare at you in silence for a good minute, enough to make you feel awkward and oddly violated as he keeps trying to pry into your very being with only his gaze. You show no signs of discomfort, of course, although you raise your eyebrow in question as he continues to attempt to psychoanalyse you or whatever he is doing. You truly had no clue. What a guy.

“And yer shooting, striker?”

Well, his rather interrogative question strikes you as quite odd, since he seemed to accept everyone’s answers without any fanfare except for yours. Is he trying to provoke you? You bet he is. He’s trying to throw you off balance, like a lowlaying hunter waiting for its prey to misstep. What an underhanded method! No wonder his entire philosophy hinged on attacking the weakest. A viable, rational way to go about things, yet it still doesn’t sit right with you. 

You don’t know why, however. 

Your lack of reasoning greatly bothers you. 

“What about my shooting?” You seep out sweetly. Maybe you overdo it, because it sounds forced even to your ears. You belatedly notice the team that observes you two with keen interest. 

“Nothin’.” Karasu fires back just as coolly. “Ya just seem like the typa guy that’s real’ proud of his strikin’ ability.” 

Okay, now you’re beginning to get annoyed. This is exactly why you can’t last long around people like Karasu; so self-assured in their capability to tear others apart, ignoring all that is wrapped around one’s core as if it meant nothing. Was he suspecting that you were hiding something? Was he theorizing that you were the star actor of some arbitrary play, with him being the only member of the audience to be aware that what’s presented in front of them is not reality, but a farce? As if. 

With the best of your ability, you mold your expression into something that could be described as sheepish. You even throw in a nervous laugh, as a bonus. “Is that really the impression I give off? To be honest, I don’t think I’m good enough to be boasting around.” 

With the way something in Karasu’s eyes changes, you’d think he had hit a jackpot. And he probably did, you think, in his own roundabout way. 

“We’ll see if yer good or not once the match starts.” He says, as if it’s that easy.

The ending of your little exchange feels like a bitter loss on your part. Even if you choose every step of your act carefully, it’s greatly aggravating how easily Karasu seems to be able to come in and push against you. Truly a bothersome crow. You’d throw rocks at it.

Of course, he is also in charge of everyone’s positions. So it does come as a bit of a shock when Otoya of all people gets chosen as the center forward. Was your assumption about there being some type of animosity between them wrong? Or were they simply mature enough to put that aside on the field? 

Whatever it is, it’s fine by you.

You make your way to the pitch with the resignation of a man joining the losing side of a war. 

It’s the same as always, which saddens you in some way. You wish you could feel the jitters of excitement, or even nervousness, yet your heart is as steady as ever. Even recalling the rules of Blue Lock does little stir you up; perhaps getting eliminated is fine, if you manage to find what sort of football makes you feel like a living being, and not a paper doll given consciousness. 

Your opponents stride towards you with as much confidence as they can muster up. When you look them all over, yet no one seems to stand out. Still, you hope for an outlier to appear, someone who could make you feel weak in the knees after the game. 

(Alas, there is no cold-hearted forward with long eyelashes to steal your breath out of your lungs this time.)

Team Y moves in a rather standard way, with a few of their members sharing passes as they begin their attack. Surprisingly, they seem to be rather coherent as a team, or at least coordinated enough to not trip over themselves for possession of the ball. As per Karasu’s plan that he so gracefully shared with the rest of you, Team V falls back into defense. 

You do a quick scan of those on the field. Everyone is at their positions, moving as smoothly as possible. Karasu, of course, is doing the same as he inspects the movement of each player with great intensity. You can see Otoya slowly speeding up. 

The pieces for the plan that Karasu suggested earlier are falling into place. It’s showtime, you guess.

Otoya, who let you know that he is supposedly a descendant of a long line of ninjas of all things, actually lives up to it, much to your amusement. He easily weaves between the rivaling players as he makes his way towards the one with the ball, who is unfortunately still unaware of the threat that is approaching.

And just like that, the advantage falls into the hands of Team V.

Glancing off to the side, you become aware that your scheming companion seems to be donning a rather smug expression. Or rather, it’s even more smug than usual. You wonder what exactly he has in store that gives him the right to be so confident.

Somewhere along the line, the ball hits the goal in favor of Team V, marking the first official goal of your Blue Lock experience. Too bad it’s not yours. Not like you’d want to claim ownership of such an average shot, of course. You’d say it’s a solid five-point-five out of ten.

Karasu says something about … installation? You aren’t really following, but you assume he’s had some form of significant revelation of sorts, but you aren’t quite sure. 

When the game resumes, a detail strikes you as noticeable. 

Team Y has no players with exceptional speed. 

No wonder Otoya’s attack easily tore them apart.

Karasu throws a grin your way and has the nerve to speak. “Just figured it out, Mr. Angel? Ain’t that a lil’ too slow?”

Oh, aren’t you getting sick of his smart ass. Letting his vocal chords rest once in a while could do him some good. As another benefit, you’d enjoy that a lot as well! “Keep your head in the game, Karasu-kun.”

He snorts, just like that. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

The boy who has the ball has a fairly sturdy build, but you can’t help but notice the barely visible, yet present, wobbliness of his feet. 

Huh. Neat.

You move to pressure him. You truly had no intention of taking the ball, honest -but it simply seems to stick to your feet! The big guy fumbles as you hook your foot between his own and with an elegant movement bring the ball towards your form.

Too bad you have to part with it early, as two other guys move to swarm you. In the corner of your eye, you spot Karasu, loitering around like a permanent thorn in your side. 

Your heart still beats steady in your ribcage. 

Getting the ball to Karasu would be so painfully easy. 

You click your tongue in distaste. You reel your leg back and send a polished low pass his way. With it, goes the unspoken prayer: Excite me. Make my presence worth it. 

Karasu pushes onwards, until some brunette from Team Y interrupts him. Now, a curious part happens; he stops, and starts rolling the ball across the grass, letting it get away from him, gaze thrown to the side. 

No way, goes through your head as you watch the other’s bewilderment. You fight back a smile. What cruelty.

As the poor victim of this charade foolishly moves to steal the ball, Karasu reels it back in, forcing himself into his opponent's personal space. He easily marches towards the goal, followed by a flock of stupefied players. 

Now, you think he’s engaging in some type of trash talk, if the angered visage of the bamboozled brunette is anything to go by. You don’t even hear what he’s saying, so you fill in the blanks easily, using your foreknowledge of Karasu’s irritation tactics.

Looking at him more closely, you guess his surname’s kind of fitting. If anything, his crazy long limbs make him seem like some sort of bird, as he pushes against various bodies with no issue. A nasty, nasty crow, that’s for sure.

Boom. It’s two goals for Team V.

In terms of scoring prowess, you’re falling behind. But no matter how much you force yourself to react to the fact, you remain unmoved. This showdown feels more like a one-sided beatdown, and swatting flies really doesn’t seem all that fun. 

Although there are interesting things happening. Like Otoya and Karasu hooking up. In football terms of course, even if with how they suddenly started smoothly playing in tandem you’d think there is some previous connection between them. Which there isn’t, you know, as they seemed to be quite opposed to the idea of the other literally days ago? Did you miss something? 

Was this the work of pure and practical interpersonal understanding between partners? You have no idea. Unfortunately, in contrast to their ascension, you got a demotion. Which does piss you off, honestly. Once someone who carried your entire team, you’ve now become a bystander feeding the two passes so they can score. And to be frank, you wouldn’t even mind if your pass led to an amazing play, but these goals weren’t even close! In fact, they were in no way similar to the perfect play of your dreams! 

But even the frustration that is felt deep within every fiber that makes up your vessel, you can’t bring yourself to attempt to change that.

What a useless thing, you!

Team Y experiences a humiliating defeat of 6-0. 

You feel like you’re going to throw up, or something. There sure is a heaviness in your gut. Usually, you’d work off your intense emotions by training, running, doing whatever else, but you’re already sticky and quite unwilling to further push yourself physically, so you make a straight route to one of Team V’s training rooms without even looking back at your teammates, since your usual, although well hidden, distaste for people got increased by at least a hundred percent. 

You don’t even care if you feel Karasu’s eyes on your back. Not like it’s anything new for the A-class creep. Kinda insane how he called Otoya that on the first day, yet he’s the one acting in ways that you think are generally frowned upon in society. But what would you know? 

You unceremoniously drop yourself against the wall once you reach your destination. You didn’t even turn the lights on. Which is annoying, but you don’t want to get up, so you sit there in the dark like a pathetic piece of shit.

You think for what you deem to be a long time. You initially think about the game, obviously, but that makes you feel worse, so you try to think about something else. It doesn’t work.

You love football, don’t you? And the answer is always, no matter when or where, instantaneously going to be a yes, certain like nothing else in your life is. And love makes you happy, so happy that you want to die, doesn’t it? That’s what it is. A feeling so intense that nothing else compares. 

So why aren't you feeling happy? You finally had a chance to compete against other supposedly skilled people, yet you were left feeling hollowed out, uncomfortable in the prison of your own skin. 

Amidst all your turbulent thoughts, the unwanted reminder of … Itoshi, of all people, rattles you enough to snap you out of your miserable episode. Why would you think of a guy you met once now, of all times? You don’t even know his first name, yet his afterimage clings onto you like a memory of a dead wife would onto a husband. 

Yet … is he not the one that forced you into the world of the living, all those weeks ago? The way he played was so out of the ordinary that it had awakened something within you, as well. But now, even if you try to recall any notable moments from that game, you’re only met with the recollections of joy, from being forced to submerge yourself into the flow of the game, and hatred, that he had dared disturb your everyday mundanity so rashly, without any consideration. It had left you feeling so weak, that Bachira had to carry you almost the entirety of the way home, and yet it was no product of exhaustion.

Itoshi. You hate him. You need to play against him again.

He must have come to Blue Lock. There is no way he hasn’t, right? If Ego didn’t invite him, that would be an astronomical waste. 

It’s fine. It’s only the beginning. You’ll play your type of football, you’re sure of it.

You just have to wait.

(You fail to notice that your teeth had pierced your lip, leaving crimson droplets to weave paths down your chin.)

A clear shot into the goal marks the ending of the match, and declares the opposing team the undeniable losers. 

Itoshi Rin doesn’t even spare a glance to the result as he marches away from the field, ignoring his bothersome teammates all the same. It’s the same as always; a bunch of NPCs who attempt to challenge him get crushed. If this is all Blue Lock has to offer to him, then it’s a waste of both Rin’s time and their money.

The memory of his brother emerges. Of course it does; it’ll remain with him until Rin proves the worth of himself and his dream. It’s the almost exact same picture as that day, where Sae -so different from how he used to be, with his gaze, resentful and dark, that had never been aimed at Rin before then -tore at his very being as if their brotherhood and shared promises meant nothing.

And then, the memory shifts, like it has never done before.

Sae’s visage gives way to a smile, dangerously cruel in its delivery, leading the owner’s lips into a wobbly line. You, of all people, some lukewarm nobody, come back to haunt Rin as you dance around him as if it required no effort on your part, all with that dull spark in your eyes, as if he was truly someone undeserving of standing before you, much less his brother. Not only was your goal the first offense; it was not enough for you, as you had continued running against his side, like a shadow, as if to ridicule him as you matched his every move with the precision he had only seen in one other person. 

He barely remembers your name. It’s not important. 

Next time, I’ll crush you. Rin had promised. But of course, you had smiled, as if gazing upon a petulant kid who had no idea about anything. You, you, you. So elegant in your performance of maliciousness. 

Like by some premonition, he knows you’ll be in Blue Lock.

And when the time comes, he will stand against you again and make sure your mocking grin makes way to awe, as he destroys you, completely and thoroughly, before he finally reaches his goal. He’ll make sure you understand where you stand -as an insect on his path. 

(He doesn’t take note of how tightly he’s been clenching his fist, allowing a ghastly white color to drench his skin.)

[belmottetower]

3.11 - Council Estates and the Right To Buy

In 3.11, we saw Jamie go home to his mum’s, and we learned that she still lives in the council house that Jamie grew up in. This has interesting implications and possibly negative ones if construed the wrong way. In the Subjectify articles, we've already discussed those implications, because it's something I've been concerned about since we first saw the trailer shot of Jamie's childhood bedroom. I knew even then that the story beat would have to be about throwing back to the Roy poster - that's why they had to keep Georgie in the house Jamie grew up in, rather than have her in a new house elsewhere. It was a choice made specifically so Roy could see the poster. 

But in making sure that could happen, it leaves us with the unfortunate framing that Jamie didn't buy his mum a house when he got rich, and "buying your mum a house" is basically the first thing a working class footballer like him would do with his money. It's a really standard baseline. I have been nervously obsessing about Ted Lasso accidentally implying that Jamie wouldn’t have done that, for months now. I had already decided, before the episode aired, that if they did not clarify either way, I would have to assume that she did not want to leave the place she lived, and that rather than a new house, Jamie had bought her their old house on the Right To Buy, a government scheme introduced in the 1980s that allows most council tenants to buy their council home at a discount. (I do have issues with this policy generally, and the impact it had on the amount of council housing available, but that’s not for now.)

There is sort of a level of visual evidence for this - the inside of his mum’s house is really well maintained and clearly full of pretty expensive furniture and items. They definitely own it, and having now met her, gotten her vibe and seen the kind of house it is, it makes a huge amount of sense to me that she stayed there. It might have felt different if we saw a different KIND of council home, but in this specific situation, it tracks. 

There’s a bit in my primer about this, but in the UK, council housing comes in a lot of different shapes and sizes. Some of them will be flats in tower blocks (like the one Roy points to from the Westway sports pitch in 2.05 - in real life that is a council housing block in Ladbroke Grove and private apartment buildings like that simply don’t exist, Roy is a council estate kid too) or the flat fronted buildings with outdoor walkways (think Kingsman, or Rose’s place in Doctor Who) but a lot of them are houses like the one you see Jamie’s mum living in - solidly built terraced houses on car-free streets, inside the boundaries of an estate. Sometimes the estate in general contains both apartment blocks and rows of houses, with some green spaces built in too. That No Ball Games sign is a staple in any and all council estates across the UK and is ignored in council estates up and down the country by children just like the ones seen in this episode and it is lovely to think about Jamie once doing the same thing. I really liked getting to see the kind of estate he grew up on.

So, TL:DR - they would own that house now, even though it’s on an estate, otherwise they would not be eligible to still be living in it. And it’s not universally horrible to live on a council estate, or in a street of ex-estate houses.

But that “Jamie didn’t buy her a house” discourse is definitely brewing - I have seen people discussing this already as “wrong,” and I agree that it is wrong in the sense of they should have taken a line or two to clarify the way that situation might have worked, specifically to not accidentally paint Jamie in a bad light. What I don’t agree with is that it’s “wrong” for her to have stayed put - that living in that area, in that type of house, on that estate is somehow inherently bad and a situation she should have been rescued from by Jamie. And at this point, insisting that she should leave or have something better is swiftly bordering on classist.

There are a lot of stereotypes that exist about working class families and council estates. That they’re all shitty places to live, that everyone who lives in them is a benefits scrounger, or a druggie, or an alcoholic, or are involved in crime or gangs. Frankly it’s an awful stereotype that just furthers the classism and class divide in the UK. There are issues in some places, but it is not ubiquitous. Georgie clearly had Jamie pretty young and would have been granted a “family home” house by the council. Living in a little cul de sac like that, it’s very likely she had a strong community of neighbors, other families with kids who all would have supported one another. She would have been looked after, as a young single mum, and Jamie would have been safe to run about and be cared for by everyone in the street if Georgie was working. It would not have been perfect, but it may have felt safe and warm in its own way.

So once Jamie got rich - given that Georgie doesn’t seem to have any other kids who might benefit from a bigger house or anything - I can honestly see Jamie trying to buy her a fancy house somewhere else and her being like “What the fuck would I do in some fancy suburb in Chesire? This is my home, I’ll stay here thanks,” and so Jamie just bought her the council house they’d grown up in and paid to get it renovated and done up nicely so Simon could have his laboratory, and Georgie a nice place to live, with her friends still close by. Except for his childhood bedroom, which she clearly refused to let him touch and him being the biggest mummy’s boy ever he didn’t argue. 

Britain used to be incredibly proud of its strides in social welfare, and council housing was once very good quality building work. (If you ever want to watch a show that depicts the origins of, and pride in, social welfare for the working class communities in the UK in a beautiful, nuanced way that will make you sob every other episode please go and watch Call the Midwife from the beginning and come scream at me about it.) These are desirable homes - in fact, Right to Buy aside, a lot of older council housing, both houses and flats, are “de-counciled” and sold off privately to new home buyers who were never in the welfare system. I actually rent an ex-council flat in London, from a landlord who bought it privately. And I have a friend of a friend who privately bought and renovated an ex-council terrace almost exactly like Georgie’s. It’s not the greatest thing when council housing gets privatized, especially when the new replacements are of such terrible quality. But the original places are built to last, so Georgie’s house definitely could be done up to a high standard once they had the right to do improvements that were not the bare minimum of the overstretched housing organization. And between Right To Buy, private sales, and people who are still in the council housing system, an estate like Georgie’s these days may have any number of privately owned homes mixed in, and different incomes and circumstances within the same street or block of flats. Some are quite gentrified and even trendy.

I’m explaining this so people know the context when they talk about a council estate like the one we saw. I think there is a tendency to want to make Jamie’s background and childhood the most traumatic it could have possibly been, even more so than is on screen, and so it’s possible people who are less familiar with the UK and how council housing works or what council estates are like, could think that Jamie’s home growing up and the estate he lived on was awful and shitty and very very rough. And that could have been the case if he had lived on one of the rougher estates or in a flat in tower block that was falling apart and hard to do up not worth salvaging (a lot of them are being torn down) but that is not the kind of place the episode chose to show us. So now, having seen it, saying “How dare Ted Lasso not show him buying his mum a big house in order to help escape his traumatic upbringing and dirty poverty life” is honestly not a great take and is a pretty classist way to look at the millions of families in the UK that live in council housing. The episode absolutely should have stated that he bought that house rather than risk letting anyone think she’s still living within the welfare system because Jamie didn’t take care of her, but there’s a difference between that and removing her from the environment entirely if she was happy and at home there.

But speaking of adding extraneous trauma, there’s another element of Jamie having been brought up on an estate that I also want to talk about. 

As someone who has been, in my fic, flying the flag for Jamie’s mum being alive and lovely and for them to have been super close for what feels like an eternity, this episode was so so so good for me. I’ll be honest, I always found the fact that some people were certain Jamie’s mum was dead quite baffling, because in the show, the way he talks about his mum right as far back as Two Aces, using present tense means it always seemed clear she was alive and I really just took the “Don’t think she would be lately” part about not being proud to mean that she didn’t know how he had been acting at Richmond, in training, with Ted and Sam, because he didn’t tell her. Not that she’d died, or had become estranged or something.

And then even aside from like, grammar, I just never thought the show depicted Jamie as someone who had suffered the loss of a parent. Especially when you compare him with Ted - who we all know did. Jamie was just not written as a character who is carrying around grief, especially recent grief, and his apology to Roy in season 2 proves it - "I aint used to being around dead people. It just, it did something to me, emotionally." This is very different to Roy’s explanation of why he acted so weirdly towards Keeley at the funeral itself - namely that memories of his grandad’s death were messing with him. It would be a very weird choice by the writers to have Jamie lie and say he hadn’t been around death if he had lost his mum.

So yeah, I always thought she was alive, and I always assumed - based on the ages kids tend to get scouted and acknowledged as good by the academies - that James hadn’t been around much until Jamie’s mid to late teens, and as such that Jamie didn’t ever live with James, just saw him occasionally. He certainly would not have ever had custody rights, if he walked out when Jamie was a baby and showed back up when he was 14.

But while I found the “Jamie’s mum is dead '' takes surprising, I almost preferred them to the theories and fics (sorry, people have the right to write what they want in fic, but I just hate it) that his mum was probably an alcoholic or a drug addict, or absent, or complicit to the James abuse, or just generally a bit shit and anything less than fantastic. Because Jamie talks about her in nothing but the nicest, softest terms, and Jamie himself - when not in his prime prick era, which legitimately only lasts for about three episodes - is the nicest, softest boy with the strongest sense of self. Even if he’d never mentioned his mum, his whole personality felt like it was the product of an upbringing with a whole lot of love and kindness and nurturing and being made to feel special. 

The swiftness with which he reverted to sweetness and openness even in season 1, as well as his natural ego, the funny version of it, felt like his natural state of being, not a new development, and I always attributed this to his mum, which we now obviously know to be true. I’ve seen lots of people this week saying “As soon as we saw Jamie with his mum, EVERYTHING about him suddenly made sense,” and I am thrilled that people see this now, because this is what I always thought. I reverse engineered what his mum must be like based on his character so far, and it turned out just as I thought but even more so. I’ve also seen ideas that even if nothing was “wrong” with her, Jamie was somewhat estranged from her due to James and also sounding wistful when talking about her, or something, but I very much disagree. The two times he’s spoken about her, he has ALSO been talking about James, which was the thing he was sad about - they weren’t moments where he was being peppy and enthusiastic about how much he loved his mum. But also, now that we’ve met her and seen them together, I can kind of imagine him talking wistfully about her after not seeing her for like, a month, just because he is always missing her, LOL.

Anyway, how people interpreted their closeness or estrangement before this week is obviously something we did not know for a fact. The thing is, what we did know is that she was a single mum and that Jamie lived on a council estate in North Manchester, and that knowledge is what made me really side-eye some of the interpretations that framed her as either an addict or a kind of deadbeat figure that meant they had a bad relationship in some way. Because in the UK, there are a lot of stereotypes and stigmas around single mums in general, but in particular working class single mums who live on council estates. It’s really really awful and often revolves around them being unemployed, benefits scroungers, being neglectful or abusive, being drug addicts or sex workers, and it’s a really pervasive part of UK society and classism, and it felt like the details we knew about Jamie’s childhood on an estate is why people leant that way about his mum in a way they wouldn’t have if the council estate thing hadn’t been specified.

Where I work, we represent people across the UK and help get their stories shared to impact politicians. In one instance we got someone we represent onto the national news to talk about the cost of living crisis. She’s a single mum. When the clip got shared on social media she faced so much abuse and harassment and stigma because of these pervasive ideas people have about single mums and ended up having to delete her social media to get away from it. It was deeply upsetting to her, myself and my coworkers.

So I honestly always found fic or meta in which a character who, based on canon, is only ever mentioned as being attentive, loving and someone Jamie has a good relationship with, was portrayed along the above lines really hard to read. It just always felt rooted in the worst kind of stereotypes and classism, even if not intentionally. Anyway, point is…I am so fucking thrilled that we finally got to meet Jamie’s mum, that Georgie is lovely and kind and cuddly and supportive, that Jamie is an even bigger mummy’s boy than I ever could have dreamed, and that he even had a bonus soft baker stepdad father figure who had been around long enough to know that Roy Kent’s poster never left Jamie’s room. And the fact that his parents live in a house they now own, on a council estate where Georgie had a long-established community, is a perfectly fine choice. It isn’t something you need to retcon, you just need to know about the Right to Buy scheme.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

do you think how Jamie reacted to Roy and Keeley's teasing at the auction in 1x04 was related to his trauma from his Dad making him loose his virginity to a lady from the red light district? and do you think after the three of them officially get together, that they ever talk about that?

Tricky one, nonny, because as much as I tend towards Watsonian explanations over Doylist ones, in this particular case I can’t quite disregard the fact that I am not at all convinced that Jamie’s Amsterdam backstory was in place when 1x04 was written. It might have been, sure, but… yeah, I doubt it, actually.

And, like, in hindsight, after 3x06, it’s hard not to connect Jamie’s discomfort at the gala with his experiences in Amsterdam. Even if he doesn’t consciously join the dots himself, even if he’s not yet realized that the experience was traumatic to him (and I think 3x06 does suggest that it was, even if it’s possibly to argue otherwise), the notion of having to have sex with someone he doesn’t want to have sex with, especially when they’re that much older (not because having sex with old people is gross, obviously, but because it would mirror the experience he had as a child), would have made him deeply uneasy.

I mean, it would make most of us deeply uneasy, so that’s not the strange part. The strange part, really, is that Jamie believes – if only for a little while – Roy and Keeley’s assertion that he’ll need to put out. Becaue, yes, Jamie’s not always the brightest, but of course the club’s not actually pimping out the players. He knows that, surely. But for a moment he isn’t sure – and maybe that’s because it’s already happened to him, hasn’t it? Not quite like this, no, but money exchanged and him required to fuck someone he had not chosen to fuck. So, yes, things like that can happen and maybe they do happen at Richmond because Jamie didn’t see it coming the first time either, did he, but no, it’s just a fucking joke, Roy and Keeley having a laught and he looks like a right idiot now, doesn’t he, for having believed them, and he can’t even articulate (not even to himself, I think) why he thought, for a moment, that maybe…

Yeah. Makes a horrible sort of sense, doesn’t it?

So, in hindsight I think we can read his reaction being at least partially related to what was done to him in Amsterdam, and normally I’d be perfectly happy with that, actual text over authorial intent, but in this case I can’t stop wondering about what it all was originally intended to mean (if, indeed, the Amsterdam part was not known to the writers at the time of writing 1x04). Maybe it intrigues me because it has the potential to reveal more and interesting things about Jamie? I don’t know, and I don’t have any real theories either, just… something about football players being used to getting sold and traded, something about his sense of self and value directly tied to his body and what he can do with it, time spent creating his brand and the slight disassociation and/or confusion between self and image it can cause (even as I think that Jamie has a very strong sense of self generally). Given all of that, is it so outlandish for him to briefly assume that maybe this too might be required? Especially given his experiences in Amsterdam… Can be a mix of the two, really. Maybe that’s the interpreation I mostly favour.  

As for if they ever talk about it... I don’t necessarily think it’s something Jamie would bring up and I doubt Roy immediately connects the dots once he hears Jamie’s tale of his first Amsterdam trip. Keeley, I think, doesn’t know what happened in the Red Light District; to me, Jamie telling Roy reads very much like a ‘first time I ever told anyone’ thing, but that’s obviously open to interpretation.

But say something reminds Roy of that gala dinner, and what was said then. Maybe they’re getting ready to attend it once more and this time they’re dead pleased to be seated at the same table, making little jokes about can you fucking imagine if someone would have told us then that this is where we’d end up and could have saved ourselves so much trouble if we’d just gone home together that night and Keeley playfully reminds Jamie that he doesn’t actually have to sleep with someone if he doesn’t want to and Jamie pouts like that shit wasn’t funny but he’s laughing too because it was long ago and they’re here now and he doesn’t tend to dwell –

– but Roy goes quiet because wait hang on oh no fuck no, and he doesn’t say anything right away, they need to get going and he’s not sure is he, and he keeps on saying nothing throughout the dinner, and behind the still face he is quietly spiralling as he watches Jamie’s every move like a hawk, every twitch of his lips and every roll of his eyes.

Jamie and Keeley both notice, and are both confused. They keep exchanging glances and when Nate’s off to the loo and Jade’s done her disappeaering act and Sam and Dani drag Jamie off to join the rest of the team for a round of shots, Keeley takes the opportunity to lean in and ask what’s going on, Roy, are you okay?

He’ll tell her then, I think, and that’s not great – not his story to share – but it’s eating at him and there’s no one else for him to confide in and Keeley is part of it too, so yes. He tells her; she’s upset but still the voice of reason; no matter what happened that night Jamie’s doing fine right now, he’s having a great time with his friends and we shouldn’t ruin that for him, but come tomorrow we’ll have a proper chat all three of us, okay, sort things out?

And come tomorrow, they do.